< 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.
Pou direktè koral la; sou yon gita uit kòd Yon sòm David. Sekou, SENYÈ, paske moun ladwati yo sispann egziste, Paske fidèl yo vin disparèt pami fis a lòm yo.
2 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.
Yo pale sa ki fo a youn lòt. Lèv flatè yo ak kè doub yo pale.
3 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.
Ke SENYÈ a vin koupe tout lèv flatè yo, ak lang ki pale gwo bagay yo;
4 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?
ki te di: “Avèk lang nou, nou va reyisi. Lèv nou se pou nou. Se kilès ki kab mèt sou nou?”
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.
“Akoz dega a aflije yo, akoz kri a malere yo, koulye a, Mwen va leve”, pale SENYÈ a; “Mwen va mete li ansekirite de (sila) ki maltrete l la.”
6 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined seven times.
Pawòl a SENYÈ a se pawòl ki san tach; tankou ajan ki teste nan founo, rafine nan tè sèt fwa.
7 Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.
Ou menm, O SENYÈ, va pwoteje yo. Ou va prezève yo soti nan jenerasyon (sila) a jis pou tout tan.
8 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.
Mechan yo pwomennen toupatou tout kote lè bagay ki lèd vin leve wo pami fis a lòm yo.

< Psalms 12 >