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.

Rombaho, ry Iehovà, fa tsy eo ondaty matarikeo; mimosaoñe amo ana’ ondatio o migahiñeo.

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

Hene mifandañitse aman-drañetse ondatio, reke-tsoñy mitsiriry naho troke-miroe-rehake.

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

Haitoa’ Iehovà ze hene fivimby mandomboke, naho ty fameleke mitrè fibohabohàñe,

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

ami’ty hoe: O lela’aio ro handreketa’ay; anay o soñi’aio; ia ty mpifehe anay?

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.

Ty fampisoañañe o rarakeo, naho ty fitoreova’ o mpisotrio, ty iongahako henaneo, hoe t’Iehovà, Fa hampipalireko amy isehasehà’ey.

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

Fetse ki’e o fepè’ Iehovào, volafoty nitsoheñe an-toñan-tsini-hara; nitranaheñe im-pito.

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

Arovo irezay ry Iehovà, ambeno ami’ty tariratse toy nainai’e donia,

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

Mitsapiotsapioke mbeo’ mbeo o tsivokatseo, naho onjoneñe amo ana’ ondatio ty haloloañe.