Psalms 144
1 A psalm of David. Praise the Lord—he is my rock. He trains me for battle, he gives me skill for war.
Dāvida dziesma. Slavēts lai ir Tas Kungs, mans patvērums, kas manām rokām māca kauties, un maniem pirkstiem karot,
2 He is the one who faithfully loves me, protects me, and defends me. He is the one who rescues me, shields me from danger, and keeps me safe. He defeats nations and places them under my rule.
Mans žēlotājs un mana stiprā pils, mans patvērums un mans izglābējs, manas priekšturamās bruņas, uz ko es paļaujos, kas manus ļaudis man dara paklausīgus.
3 Lord, what are human beings that you should care about them? What are people that you should concern yourself with them?
Kungs, kas ir cilvēks, ka Tu viņu piemini? Un cilvēka bērns, ka Tu viņu lieci vērā?
4 Humanity is like a breath; their lives are like a passing shadow.
Cilvēks ir kā dvaša, viņa laiks ir kā ēna, kas aiziet.
5 Part your heavens and come down. Touch the mountains so that they give off smoke.
Kungs, nolaid Savas debesis un kāp zemē, aizskar kalnus, ka tie kūp.
6 Scatter your enemies with flashes of lightning! Let your arrows fly and send them running in confusion!
Met zibeņus un izkaisi tos, šaudi Savas bultas un izbiedē tos.
7 Stretch down your hand from heaven and set me free. Rescue me from raging waters, from the oppression of foreign enemies.
Izstiep Savas rokas no augstības, atpestī mani un izglāb mani no lieliem ūdeņiem, no svešinieku rokas!
8 They are such liars, even telling lies under oath.
Viņu mute runā melus, un viņu labā roka ir viltus roka.
9 God, I will sing a new song to you, accompanied by a ten-stringed harp,
Ak Dievs, es Tev dziedāšu jaunu dziesmu, es Tev dziedāšu ar desmit stīgu koklēm.
10 to you, the one who gives victory to kings. You saved your servant David from death by the sword.
Tu ķēniņiem dod pestīšanu, un izglābi Savu kalpu Dāvidu no nikna zobena.
11 Set me free. Rescue me from the oppression of foreign enemies. They are such liars, even telling lies under oath.
Izglābi mani un atpestī mani no svešinieku rokas, kas ar savu muti melus runā, un viņu labā roka ir viltus roka;
12 Then our sons will grow up like plants in their youth and become mature, and our daughters will be like beautiful pillars carved to support a palace.
Ka mūsu dēli uzaug savā jaunībā kā stādi, mūsu meitas kā izcirsti stūra pīlāri pils namos.
13 Our storehouses will be full of all kinds of crops; our flocks of sheep will grow by thousands, increasing by tens of thousands in the pastures.
Ka mūsu klētis ir pilnas un izdod visādu mantu, ka mūsu ganāmie pulki pa tūkstošiem vedās un pa simts tūkstošiem mūsu laidaros;
14 Our cattle will grow fat. No one will break down our city walls, there will be no exile, no cries of mourning in our town squares.
Ka mūsu liellopi augļojās, un ka postīšanas, laupīšanas, vaidēšanas nav pa mūsu ielām.
15 The people who live like this will be happy. Happy are those whose God is the Lord.
Svētīga tā tauta, kam tā klājās, svētīga tā tauta, kam Tas Kungs ir par Dievu.
