Psalms 127

1 A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. A psalm of Solomon. If the Lord doesn't build the house, the work of the builders is futile. If the Lord doesn't guard the city, the work of the guards is pointless.

Tiga nyũmba yakirwo nĩ Jehova, andũ arĩa mamĩakaga marutaga wĩra o wa tũhũ. Tiga itũũra inene rĩmenyereirwo nĩ Jehova, arangĩri maraaraga mehũũgĩte o tũhũ.

2 It's useless to get up early in the morning and go to work, and stay late into the evening, worrying about earning enough to eat, when the Lord gives rest to those he loves.

Nĩ tũhũ andũ kũrooka gũũkĩra rũciinĩ tene, na gũkoma magakoma macereirwo, makĩnogera irio cia kũrĩa, nĩgũkorwo andũ arĩa Jehova endete, we nĩamaheaga o na marĩ toro.

3 Children certainly are a gift from the Lord, for a family is a blessing.

Ciana nĩ igai kuuma kũrĩ Jehova, ciana nĩ kĩheo kuuma kũrĩ we.

4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of a young man.

Ciana iria mũndũ aciarĩte arĩ mũnini no ta mĩguĩ ĩrĩ moko-inĩ ma njamba ya ita.

5 Happy is the father who fills his quiver with them! Such fathers will not be embarrassed when they confront their enemies at the city gate.

Kũrathimwo nĩ mũndũ ũrĩa thiaka wake ũiyũrĩte mĩguĩ. Matigaaconorithio rĩrĩa magaakorwo magĩciira na thũ ciao hau kĩhingo-inĩ.