Psalms 12

1 Unto the end; for the octave, a psalm for David. Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.

Kuom jatend wer. Kaluwore gi sheminith. Zaburi mar Daudi. Kony ji yaye Jehova Nyasaye, nikech joma oluoro Nyasaye koro onge; joma jo-adiera oserumo e dier ji.

2 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.

Ngʼato ka ngʼato riambo ne nyawadgi; dhogi mohero jaro ji wuoyo gi wuond.

3 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.

Mad Jehova Nyasaye ongʼad oko lep duto ma jaro ji kod lep duto masungore;

4 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?

mawacho niya, “Wabiro wuoyo kaka wahero; kendo onge ngʼama biro tamowa. Koso en ngʼa ma ruodhwa manyalo tamowa timo kamano?”

5 By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I win set him in safety; I will deal confidently in his regard.

“Nikech dich modigo joma ok nyal kod chur ma joma ochando churgo, koro abiro aa malo,” Jehova Nyasaye owacho. “Abiro ritogi e lwet joma sandogi.”

6 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined seven times.

Weche Jehova Nyasaye liw, giliw ka fedha moleny e lowo mowangʼ maliet ha, mopwodhi ndalo abiriyo.

7 Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.

Yaye Jehova Nyasaye, yie iritwa maber kik gimoro ohinywa kendo reswa e lwet joma kamago nyaka chiengʼ.

8 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.

Joma timbegi richo wuotho koni gi koni kendo gima rach ema ji puoyo.