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.

Orin fún ìgòkè. Ti Solomoni. Bí kò ṣe pé Olúwa bá kọ́ ilé náà àwọn tí ń kọ́ ọ ń ṣiṣẹ́ lásán ni; bí kò ṣe pé Olúwa bá pa ìlú mọ́, olùṣọ́ jí lásán.

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.

Asán ni fún ẹ̀yin ti ẹ dìde ní kùtùkùtù láti pẹ́ dùbúlẹ̀, láti jẹ oúnjẹ làálàá; bẹ́ẹ̀ ni ó ń fi ìre fún olùfẹ́ rẹ̀ lójú ọ̀run.

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

Kíyèsi i, àwọn ọmọ ni ìní Olúwa: ọmọ inú sì ni èrè rẹ̀.

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

Bí ọfà ti rí ní ọwọ́ alágbára, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni àwọn ọmọ èwe.

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.

Ìbùkún ni fún ọkùnrin náà tí apó rẹ̀ kún fún wọn; ojú kì yóò tì wọ́n, ṣùgbọ́n wọn yóò ṣẹ́gun àwọn ọ̀tá ní ẹnu-ọ̀nà.