Psalms 39
1 For Jeduthun, the music director. A psalm of David. I told myself, “I will be careful in what I do, and not sin in what I say. I will keep my mouth shut when the wicked are around.”
(Til sangmesteren. Til Jedutun. En salme af David.) Jeg sagde: "Mine Veje vil jeg vogte på, så jeg ikke synder med Tungen; min Mund vil jeg holde i Tømme, så længe den gudløse er mig nær!"
2 So I was completely silent—I didn't even say anything good. But the pain inside only got worse.
Jeg var stum og tavs, jeg tav for at undgå tomme Ord, men min Smerte naged,
3 My mind burned as if on fire; I had to say what I was thinking:
mit Hjerte brændte i Brystet, Ild lued op, mens jeg grunded; da talte jeg med min Tunge.
4 Lord, remind me. How short is my life? How long do I have? Remind me how quickly my life will pass.
Lær mig, HERRE, at kende mit Endeligt, det Mål af Dage, jeg har, lad mig kende, hvor snart jeg skal bort!
5 Just look at the tiny amount of days you have given me! In your eyes my whole lifetime is like nothing. Our lives here are just a breath… (Selah)
Se, i Håndsbredder målte du mine Dage ud, mit Liv er som intet for dig, som et Åndepust står hvert Menneske der. (Sela)
6 Human beings are just shadows walking around. They pointlessly rush through life, trying to pile up possessions without knowing who will get them.
Kun som en Skygge er Menneskets Vandring, kun Tomhed er deres Travlhed; de samler og ved ej, hvem der får det.
7 So Lord, what am I looking for? I put my hope in you.
Hvad bier jeg, Herre, da efter? Mit Håb står ene til dig.
8 Save me from my rebellion. Don't let me be mocked by fools.
Fri mig for al min Synd, gør mig ikke til Spot for Dårer!
9 I will stay quiet, I won't say a word, for it's you who has done this to me.
Jeg tier og åbner ikke min Mund, du voldte det jo.
10 Please stop hitting me! Your beating has worn me out!
Borttag din Plage fra mig, under din vældige Hånd går jeg til.
11 When you discipline us, reprimanding us for our sins, it's like a moth eating up what is precious to us. All of us are just a breath… (Selah)
Når du tugter en Mand med Straf for hans Brøde, smuldrer du hans Herlighed hen som Møl; kun et Åndepust er hvert Menneske. (Sela)
12 Please hear my prayer, Lord! Listen to my cry for help! Don't be deaf to my weeping. Please treat me as your guest, passing through, just like my forefathers.
Hør, o HERRE, min Bøn og lyt til mit Skrig, til mine Tårer tie du ej! Thi en fremmed er jeg hos dig, en Gæst som alle mine Fædre.
13 Please leave me alone so I can be cheerful again, before I am dead and gone.
Se bort fra mig, så jeg kvæges, før jeg går bort og ej mer er til!
