Job 27
1 Job continued his discourse:
Job vedblev at fremsætte sit Tankesprog:
2 “As surely as God lives, who has deprived me of justice— the Almighty, who has embittered my soul—
Saa sandt Gud lever, som satte min Ret til Side, den Almægtige, som gjorde mig mod i Hu:
3 as long as my breath is still within me and the breath of God remains in my nostrils,
Saa længe jeg drager Aande og har Guds Aande i Næsen,
4 my lips will not speak wickedness, and my tongue will not utter deceit.
skal mine Læber ej tale Uret, min Tunge ej fare med Svig!
5 I will never say that you are right; I will maintain my integrity until I die.
Langt være det fra mig at give jer Ret; til jeg udaander, opgiver jeg ikke min Uskyld.
6 I will cling to my righteousness and never let go. As long as I live, my conscience will not accuse me.
Jeg hævder min Ret, jeg slipper den ikke, ingen af mine Dage piner mit Sind.
7 May my enemy be like the wicked and my opponent like the unjust.
Som den gudløse gaa det min Fjende, min Modstander som den lovløse!
8 For what is the hope of the godless when he is cut off, when God takes away his life?
Thi hvad er den vanhelliges Haab, naar Gud bortskærer og kræver hans Sjæl?
9 Will God hear his cry when distress comes upon him?
Hører mon Gud hans Skrig, naar Angst kommer over ham?
10 Will he delight in the Almighty? Will he call upon God at all times?
Mon han kan fryde sig over den Almægtige, føjer han ham, naar han paakalder ham?
11 I will instruct you in the power of God. I will not conceal the ways of the Almighty.
Jeg vil lære jer om Guds Haand, den Almægtiges Tanker dølger jeg ikke;
12 Surely all of you have seen it for yourselves. Why then do you keep up this empty talk?
se, selv har I alle set det, hvi har I saa tomme Tanker?
13 This is the wicked man’s portion from God— the heritage the ruthless receive from the Almighty.
Det er den gudløses Lod fra Gud, Arven, som Voldsmænd faar fra den Almægtige:
14 Though his sons are many, they are destined for the sword; and his offspring will never have enough food.
Vokser hans Sønner, er det for Sværdet, hans Afkom mættes ikke med Brød;
15 His survivors will be buried by the plague, and their widows will not weep for them.
de øvrige bringer Pesten i Graven, deres Enker kan ej holde Klage over dem.
16 Though he heaps up silver like dust and piles up a wardrobe like clay,
Opdynger han Sølv som Støv og samler sig Klæder som Ler —
17 what he lays up, the righteous will wear, and his silver will be divided by the innocent.
han samler, men den retfærdige klæder sig i dem, og Sølvet arver den skyldfri;
18 The house he built is like a moth’s cocoon, like a hut set up by a watchman.
han bygger sit Hus som en Edderkops, som Hytten, en Vogter gør sig;
19 He lies down wealthy, but will do so no more; when he opens his eyes, all is gone.
han lægger sig rig, men for sidste Gang, han slaar Øjnene op, og er det ej mer;
20 Terrors overtake him like a flood; a tempest sweeps him away in the night.
Rædsler naar ham som Vande, ved Nat river Stormen ham bort;
21 The east wind carries him away, and he is gone; it sweeps him out of his place.
løftet af Østenstorm farer han bort, den fejer ham væk fra hans Sted.
22 It hurls itself against him without mercy as he flees headlong from its power.
Skaanselsløst skyder han paa ham, i Hast maa han fly fra hans Haand;
23 It claps its hands at him and hisses him out of his place.
man klapper i Hænderne mod ham og piber ham bort fra hans Sted!
