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.

Abụ nrigo, nke Solomọn. Ọ bụrụ na Onyenwe anyị ewughị ụlọ, ndị na-ewu ya na-adọgbu onwe ha nʼọrụ nʼefu. Ọ bụrụ na Onyenwe anyị echeghị obodo, nʼefu ka ndị nche na-amụ anya.

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.

Ọ bụ nʼefu ka ị na-ebili nʼisi ụtụtụ na-adọgbu onwe gị nʼọrụ ịchọta ihe ị ga-eri ruo nʼabalị, nʼihi na ọ na-eme ka ndị niile ọ hụrụ nʼanya hie ụra nʼudo.

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

Ụmụntakịrị bụ ihe nketa si nʼaka Onyenwe anyị, ụmụntakịrị bụ ụgwọ ọrụ ọ na-enye.

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

Dịka àkụ nʼaka dike nʼagha, otu a, ka ụmụ a mụtaara na mgbe okorobịa dị.

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.

Onye a gọziri agọzi ka nwoke ahụ bụ onye kpojuru àkụ ndị a nʼakpa àkụ ya. Ihere agaghị eme ha mgbe ha na ndị iro na-arụrịta ụka nʼama.