Job 17
1 “My spirit is broken; my days are extinguished; the grave awaits me.
Roho wakwa nĩmũthuthĩku, matukũ makwa nĩmathirĩte, mbĩrĩra nĩyo ĩnjetereire.
2 Surely mockers surround me, and my eyes must gaze at their rebellion.
Ti-itherũ thiũrũrũkĩirio nĩ andũ a kũũnyũrũria; maitho makwa no nginya meerorere rũmena rwao.
3 Give me, I pray, the pledge You demand. Who else will be my guarantor?
“Wee Ngai-rĩ, ta kĩĩhe kĩndũ gĩa kũrũgamĩrĩra thiirĩ wakwa kĩrĩa ũretia, tondũ-rĩ, nũũ ũngĩ ũngĩĩtĩkĩra kũruta kĩndũ gĩake kĩĩndũgamĩrĩre?
4 You have closed their minds to understanding; therefore You will not exalt them.
Wee nĩwaagithĩtie meciiria mao ũmenyo; nĩ ũndũ ũcio ndũngĩmetĩkĩria mahootane.
5 If a man denounces his friends for a price, the eyes of his children will fail.
Mũndũ angĩkaana arata ake nĩ ũndũ wa kĩheo-rĩ, maitho ma ciana ciake nĩmakoora.
6 He has made me a byword among the people, a man in whose face they spit.
“Ngai nĩanduĩte mũndũ wa kuunwo thimo nĩ andũ othe, nduĩkĩte mũndũ wa gũtuagĩrwo mata ũthiũ nĩ andũ.
7 My eyes have grown dim with grief, and my whole body is but a shadow.
Maitho makwa nĩ maroora nĩ gwĩthikĩra; ciĩga ciakwa ciothe ihũthĩte o ta kĩĩruru.
8 The upright are appalled at this, and the innocent are stirred against the godless.
Andũ arĩa arũngĩrĩru nĩmagegetio nĩ ũhoro ũcio; andũ arĩa matarĩ na ũũru mekĩte nĩmarahũkĩte mokĩrĩre andũ arĩa matooĩ Ngai.
9 Yet a righteous one holds to his way, and the one with clean hands grows stronger.
O na kũrĩ ũguo-rĩ, arĩa athingu nĩmarĩrũmagia njĩra ciao, nao arĩa marĩ moko matheru nĩmarĩongagĩrĩrwo hinya.
10 But come back and try again, all of you. For I will not find a wise man among you.
“No rĩrĩ, ta gĩũkei inyuothe, geriai o rĩngĩ! Niĩ ndirĩ ndĩrona mũndũ mũũgĩ gatagatĩ kanyu.
11 My days have passed; my plans are broken off— even the desires of my heart.
Matukũ makwa nĩ mathiru, mĩbango yakwa nĩmĩharaganie, o na merirĩria ma ngoro yakwa.
12 They have turned night into day, making light seem near in the face of darkness.
Andũ aya magarũraga ũtukũ makaũtua mũthenya; nduma yamakinyĩrĩra moigaga atĩrĩ, ‘Ũtheri ũrĩ o hakuhĩ.’
Angĩkorwo mũciĩ ũrĩa njĩrĩgĩrĩire no mbĩrĩra, angĩkorwo ingĩara ũrĩrĩ wakwa o nduma-inĩ-rĩ, (Sheol h7585)
14 and say to corruption, ‘You are my father,’ and to the worm, ‘My mother,’ or ‘My sister,’
angĩkorwo no njĩĩre ũhoro wa kũbutha atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe baba,’ na njĩĩre kĩgunyũ atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe maitũ’ kana ‘Nĩwe mwarĩ wa maitũ-rĩ’,
15 where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me?
mwĩhoko wakwa ũkĩrĩ kũ? Nũũ ũngĩnyonera mwĩhoko?
