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.

MA Ieowa jota pan kauada im o, dodok en pwin jauje jota pan katepa; ma Ieowa jota pan jinjila kanim o, jaunmajamajan pan majamajan mal.

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.

Jota katepa on komail, ma komail pan paurida nin joran, ap pil pwand kamol ni pon, o toutouki okotme, ni omail manamana, pwe a kin kakepwapwala japwilim a kompokepa kan ni ar mamair.

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

Kilan, jeri ko iei kijakij eu jan ren Ieowa, o wan aramaj pai eu.

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

Duen kananan kajik katieu nan pa en ol komad amen, iduen putak ko ar pan pwaida.

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.

Meid pai ol o, me a lepan me direki mepukat! Re jota pan jarodi, ni ar kapun pena ren ar imwintiti kan.