Job 7
1 The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.
Ja, mannen hev ein strid på jordi; hans dagar gjeng som leigedagar.
2 Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,
Som trælen lengtar etter skugge, og leigekar på løni ventar,
3 so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.
so fekk eg månader av vonbrot og næter fulle utav møda.
4 If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness.
Eg segjer når eg gjeng til kvile: «Når skal eg atter standa upp?» Og kvelden vert so lang, so lang: Eg ligg uroleg alt til dagsprett.
5 My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.
Og makk og sår min likam dekkjer, og hudi skorpnar og bryt upp att.
6 My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.
Mi tid fer snøggar’ enn ein skutel, og ho kverv utan nokor von.
7 Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.
Hugs på: mitt liv er som ein pust; mitt auga ser’kje lukka meir.
8 Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.
Snart er eg løynd for alle augo; du fåfengt stirer etter meg.
9 Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend. (Sheol h7585)
Som skyi framum fer og kverv, so ingen att frå helheim vender, (Sheol h7585)
10 He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
snur ei attende til sitt hus; hans heimstad kjenner han’kje meir.
11 And because of this, I will not restrain my mouth. I will speak in the affliction of my spirit. I will converse from the bitterness of my soul.
Difor vil’kje munnen stagga, men tala i min djupe hugverk og klaga i mi sjælenaud.
12 Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?
Er eg eit hav, er eg ein drake, med di du vaktar so på meg?
13 If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”
Eg tenkjer: «Lægjet skal meg lindra, og sengi letta suti mi» -
14 then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,
då skræmer du meg upp med draumar, og støkkjer meg med ville syner,
15 so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
so at eg heller ville kjøvast, ja døy, enn vera slik ei beingrind.
16 I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.
D’er nok! Eg liver ikkje æveleg; Haldt upp! Mitt liv er som ein pust.
17 What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
Kva er ein mann, at du han vyrder og retter tanken din på honom,
18 You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
heimsøkjer honom kvar ein morgon, ransakar honom kvar ei stund?
19 How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
Når tek du frå meg auga ditt? Meg slepper med eg svelgjar råken?
20 I have sinned; what should I do for you, O keeper of men? Why have you set me against you, so that I have become burdensome even to myself?
Hev eg gjort synd, kva gjer eg deg, du som på mannen vaktar stødt? Kvi hev du meg til skiva valt? So eg hev vorte meg ei byrd?
21 Why do you not steal away my sin, and why do you not sweep away my iniquity? Behold, now I will sleep in the dust, and if you seek me in the morning, I will not remain.
Kvi gjev du ikkje syndi til? Kvi ansar du på mine brot? No sig eg snart i moldi ned; og leitar du, so er eg burte.»
