Job 30
1 But now people much younger than me laugh at me; people whose fathers I would not put to work with my sheepdogs.
Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
2 They are too weak to be any use to me; they're all worn-out.
Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
3 Thin through hunger and want, they try to eat the dry ground in the dark, desolate wilderness.
tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
4 There they pick desert herbs and the leaves of bushes, and eat the roots of broom trees.
og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
5 They were driven out of the community.
Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve raabes der efter dem.
6 People shouted after them as if they were thieves. They have to live in dangerous ravines, in caves and among the rocks.
De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
7 They shout out like animals among the bushes; they huddle together in the weeds for shelter.
De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
8 They are foolish, nameless people that have been driven from the land.
en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
9 Yet now they mock me in their songs; I have become a joke to them!
Men nu er jeg Haansang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
10 They despise and shun me; they don't hesitate to spit in my face.
de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
11 God has made my bowstring loose and humbled me.
Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
12 The rabble rise up against me, they send me running; like a city under siege they devise ways to destroy me.
Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slaar de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig;
13 They cut off my way of escape; they bring about my downfall and do this without anyone's help.
min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
14 They come in through a wide breach; they rush in as the wall comes tumbling down.
de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
15 Terrors overcome me; my honor is blown away by the wind; my salvation vanishes like a cloud.
Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
16 And now my life is ebbing away; every day despair grips me.
Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
17 At night my bones are in agony; the pain gnaws at me and never stops.
Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
18 God grabs me roughly by my clothes; he pulls me by the collar of my shirt.
Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
19 He has thrown me in the mud; he has humbled me like dust and ashes.
Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
20 God, I cry to you but you don't answer; I stand before you, but you don't even notice me.
Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du staar der og ænser mig ikke;
21 You have turned cruel to me; you use your power to make me suffer.
grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Haand.
22 You pick me up and blow me along in the wind; tossing me about in the whirlwind.
Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
23 I know you're taking me to my death, to the place where all the living go.
thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
24 Who would want to kick a man when he is down, when they cry for help in their time of trouble?
Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Haanden ud og raaber om Hjælp, naar han gaar under?
25 Didn't I weep for those having hard times? Didn't I grieve at what the poor suffered?
Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det haardt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
26 But when I looked for good, only evil came, and when I waited for the light, all that came was darkness.
Jeg biede paa Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg haabed paa Lys, men Mørke kom;
27 Inside I am in turmoil, it never stops; I face days of despair.
ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
28 I am so depressed; seeing the sun doesn't help. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
trøstesløs gaar jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og raaber;
29 I am like a brother to the jackals, a companion to owls.
Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
30 My skin turns black on me; and my bones burn within me.
Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
31 My lyre only plays sad songs, and my pipe is the voice of those who weep.
min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Graad!
