Psalms 12

1 For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, LORD; for the godly man ceases. For the faithful fail from among the children of men.

Pou direktè koral la; sou yon gita uit kòd Yon sòm David. Sekou, SENYÈ, paske moun ladwati yo sispann egziste, Paske fidèl yo vin disparèt pami fis a lòm yo.

2 Everyone lies to his neighbor. They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

Yo pale sa ki fo a youn lòt. Lèv flatè yo ak kè doub yo pale.

3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that boasts,

Ke SENYÈ a vin koupe tout lèv flatè yo, ak lang ki pale gwo bagay yo;

4 who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail. Our lips are our own. Who is lord over us?”

ki te di: “Avèk lang nou, nou va reyisi. Lèv nou se pou nou. Se kilès ki kab mèt sou nou?”

5 “Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise,” says the LORD; “I will set him in safety from those who malign him.”

“Akoz dega a aflije yo, akoz kri a malere yo, koulye a, Mwen va leve”, pale SENYÈ a; “Mwen va mete li ansekirite de (sila) ki maltrete l la.”

6 The LORD’s words are flawless words, as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

Pawòl a SENYÈ a se pawòl ki san tach; tankou ajan ki teste nan founo, rafine nan tè sèt fwa.

7 You will keep them, LORD. You will preserve them from this generation forever.

Ou menm, O SENYÈ, va pwoteje yo. Ou va prezève yo soti nan jenerasyon (sila) a jis pou tout tan.

8 The wicked walk on every side, when what is vile is exalted among the sons of men.

Mechan yo pwomennen toupatou tout kote lè bagay ki lèd vin leve wo pami fis a lòm yo.