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.

Rombaho, ry Iehovà, fa tsy eo ondaty matarikeo; mimosaoñe amo ana’ ondatio o migahiñeo.

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

Hene mifandañitse aman-drañetse ondatio, reke-tsoñy mitsiriry naho troke-miroe-rehake.

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

Haitoa’ Iehovà ze hene fivimby mandomboke, naho ty fameleke mitrè fibohabohàñe,

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

ami’ty hoe: O lela’aio ro handreketa’ay; anay o soñi’aio; ia ty mpifehe anay?

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.”

Ty fampisoañañe o rarakeo, naho ty fitoreova’ o mpisotrio, ty iongahako henaneo, hoe t’Iehovà, Fa hampipalireko amy isehasehà’ey.

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

Fetse ki’e o fepè’ Iehovào, volafoty nitsoheñe an-toñan-tsini-hara; nitranaheñe im-pito.

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

Arovo irezay ry Iehovà, ambeno ami’ty tariratse toy nainai’e donia,

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

Mitsapiotsapioke mbeo’ mbeo o tsivokatseo, naho onjoneñe amo ana’ ondatio ty haloloañe.