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:

Ɔsoroforɔ dwom. “Wɔahyɛ me so pii firi me mmɔfraase, ma Israel nka.

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

“Wɔahyɛ me so pii firi me mmɔfraase, nanso wɔntumi nnii me so nkonim.

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

Fentemfoɔ afentem mʼakyi ayɛ wɔn nkofie atentene.

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

Nanso Awurade yɛ ɔteneneeni; Watwitwa amumuyɛfoɔ nhoma afiri me ho.”

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

Ma wɔn a wɔtan Sion nyinaa mfa animguaseɛ nsane wɔn akyi.

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

Ma wɔnyɛ sɛ ɛserɛ a ɛwɔ ɔdan atifi, ɛnnyini na ahye;

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

Ɛremma otwafoɔ nya biribi wɔ ne nsam, na deɛ ɔboaboa ano nso renya hwee nʼabasa so.

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.”

Mma wɔn a wɔtwam hɔ nnka sɛ, “Awurade nhyira mmra mo so; yɛhyira mo wɔ Awurade din mu.”