Job 17
1 My spirit is crushed; my life is extinguished; the grave is ready for me.
Mmụọ m tiwara etiwa, ụbọchị m niile dị mkpụmkpụ, ili na-echere ịnabata m.
2 Mockers surround me. I see how bitterly they ridicule me.
Nʼezie ndị na-akwa emo gbara m gburugburu; anya m na-elekwasịkwa mkpasu iwe ha.
3 God, you need to put down a pledge for me with yourself, for who else will be my guarantor?
“Debere m ihe ebe nʼebe gị Chineke nọ. Olee onye ọzọ pụrụ ịnara m nʼakaebe?
4 You have closed their minds to understanding, so do not let them win!
I mechiela uche ha ka ha ghara inwe nghọta; ya mere, i gaghị ekwe ka ha nwee mmeri.
5 They betray friends to gain benefit for themselves and their children suffer for it.
Ọ bụrụ na mmadụ ekwujọọ enyi ya ka o were nweta uru dị nʼime ya, anya ụmụ ya ga-ada mba.
6 He has made me a proverb of ridicule among the people; they spit in my face.
“Chineke emeela ka m bụrụ okwu ilu nye onye ọbụla, meekwa ka m bụrụ onye ha na-agbụsa asọ mmiri nʼihu.
7 My eyes are worn out from crying and my body is a shadow of its former self.
Anya m na-ahụ inyogho inyogho nʼihi iru ụjụ; ahụ m aghọọla onyinyo nke ihe m bụ na mbụ.
8 People who think they are good are shocked to see me. Those who are innocent are troubled by the godless.
Ndị na-eme ihe ziri ezi na-akụja mgbe ha hụrụ nke a; ndị aka ha dị ọcha na-enwe mkpali megide ndị ajọ omume.
9 Those who are right keep going, and those whose hands are clean grow stronger and stronger.
Ma otu ọbụla ọ dị, ndị ezi omume ga-aga nʼihu nʼiso ụzọ ha, ndị aka ha dị ọcha ga-aga nʼihu nʼịdị ike.
10 Why don't you come back and repeat again what you've been saying?—yet I still won't find a wise man among you!
“Ma bịanụ, unu niile, bidonụ okwu unu ọzọ! Agaghị m achọta onye maara ihe nʼetiti unu.
11 My life is over. My plans are gone. My heart is broken.
Ụbọchị m niile agafeela, atụmatụ m abụrụla ihe lara nʼiyi. Ma ọchịchọ nke obi m
12 They turn night into day, and say that daylight is close to darkness.
na-edo abalị nʼọnọdụ ehihie; nʼihu ọchịchịrị ka ìhè dị nso.
Ọ bụrụ na ebe obibi m na-ele anya ya bụ ili, ọ bụrụ na m agbasaa ihe ndina m nʼelu ọchịchịrị, (Sheol h7585)
14 Should I call the grave my father, and the maggot my mother or my sister?
a sikwa na m asị ire ure, ‘Nna m ka ị bụ,’ maọbụ sị ikpuru ‘Nne m’ maọbụ ‘Nwanne m nwanyị,’
15 So then where is my hope? Can anyone see any hope for me?
ebeekwa ka olileanya m dị? Onye pụrụ ịhụ ma m nwere olileanya?
