Psalms 129

1 A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. Many enemies have attacked from the time I was young. Let everyone in Israel say:

Cantique des degrés. Ils m’ont assez opprimé dès ma jeunesse, Qu’Israël le dise!

2 Many enemies have attacked from the time I was young, but they never defeated me.

Ils m’ont assez opprimé dès ma jeunesse, Mais ils ne m’ont pas vaincu.

3 They beat me on my back, leaving long furrows as if it had been ploughed by a farmer.

Des laboureurs ont labouré mon dos, Ils y ont tracé de longs sillons.

4 But the Lord does what is right: he has cut me free from the ropes of the wicked.

L’Éternel est juste: Il a coupé les cordes des méchants.

5 May everyone who hates Zion be driven back in humiliating defeat.

Qu’ils soient confondus et qu’ils reculent, Tous ceux qui haïssent Sion!

6 May they be like grass that grows on a roof that withers before it can be harvested,

Qu’ils soient comme l’herbe des toits, Qui sèche avant qu’on l’arrache!

7 There's not enough even for a reaper to hold, not enough even for the binder to bind.

Le moissonneur n’en remplit point sa main, Celui qui lie les gerbes n’en charge point son bras,

8 May passers-by not say to them, “The blessing of the Lord be on you; we bless you in the name of the Lord.”

Et les passants ne disent point: Que la bénédiction de l’Éternel soit sur vous! Nous vous bénissons au nom de l’Éternel!