Job 30
1 Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
But now they that are younger than I hold me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2 Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
Of what use to me would be even the strength of their hands, To whom old age is lost?
3 tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
By want and hunger they are famished; They gnaw the dry desert, The darkness of desolate wastes.
4 og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
They gather purslain among the bushes, And the root of the broom is their bread.
5 Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve råbes der efter dem.
They are driven from the society of men; There is a cry after them as after a thief.
6 De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
They dwell in gloomy valleys, In caves of the earth and in rocks.
7 De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
They bray among the bushes; Under the brambles are they stretched out.
8 en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
An impious and low-born race, They are beaten out of the land.
9 Men nu er jeg Hånsang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
And now I am become their song; Yea, I am their by-word!
10 de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me; They forbear not to spit before my face.
11 Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
Yea, they let loose the reins, and humble me; They cast off the bridle before me.
12 Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slår de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig
On my right hand riseth up the brood; They thrust away my feet; They cast up against me their destructive ways.
13 min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
They break up my path; They hasten my fall, —They who have no helper!
14 de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
They come upon me as through a wide breach; Through the ruins they rush in upon me.
15 Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
Terrors are turned against me; They pursue my prosperity like the wind, And my welfare passeth away like a cloud.
16 Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
And now my soul poureth itself out upon me; Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
By night my bones are pierced; they are torn from me, And my gnawers take no rest.
18 Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
Through the violence of my disease is my garment changed; It bindeth me about like the collar of my tunic.
19 Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du står der og ænser mig ikke;
I call upon Thee, but thou dost not hear me; I stand up before thee, but thou regardest me not.
21 grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Hånd.
Thou art become cruel to me; With thy strong hand dost thou lie in wait for me.
22 Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
Thou liftest me up, and causest me to ride upon the wind; Thou meltest me away in the storm.
23 thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
I know that thou wilt bring me to death, To the place of assembly for all the living.
24 Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Hånden ud og råber om Hjælp, når han går under?
When He stretcheth out his hand, prayer availeth nothing; When He bringeth destruction, vain is the cry for help.
25 Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det hårdt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26 Jeg biede på Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg håbed på Lys, men Mørke kom;
But when I looked for good, then evil came; When I looked for light, then came darkness.
27 ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
My bowels boil, and have no rest; Days of anguish have come upon me.
28 trøstesløs går jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og råber;
I am black, but not by the sun; I stand up, and utter my cries in the congregation.
29 Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
I am become a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.
30 Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones burn with heat.
31 min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Gråd!
My harp also is turned to mourning, And my pipe to notes of grief.
