Psalms 42
1 For the music director. A psalm (maskil) of the sons of Korah. As a deer longs for flowing streams, so I long for you, God.
Kwĩhoka Ũhonokio wa Mwathani. Thaburi ya Ariũ a Kora O ta ũrĩa thwariga ĩnyootagĩra tũrũũĩ twa maaĩ, no taguo ngoro yakwa ĩkũnyootagĩra, Wee Ngai.
2 I am thirsty for God, the living God. When can I go and see God's face?
Ngoro yakwa nĩ Ngai ĩnyootagĩra, O we Mũrungu ũrĩa ũrĩ muoyo. Ĩ nĩ rĩ ngaathiĩ ngacemanie na Ngai?
3 My tears have been my only food, day and night, while people ask me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Maithori makwa matuĩkĩte nĩmo irio ciakwa mũthenya o na ũtukũ, nao andũ manjũũragia mũthenya wothe atĩrĩ, “Ngai waku akĩrĩ ha?”
4 I am crushed as I remember how I walked with the crowds, leading them in a procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and songs of thanks among the worshipers at the festival.
Maũndũ maya ndĩmaririkanaga o ngĩitũrũraga ngoro yakwa: ngaririkana ũrĩa ndatwaranaga na kĩrĩndĩ, ndongoretie mũtongoro nginya nyũmba-inĩ ya Ngai, tũkĩanagĩrĩra na gĩkeno na tũgĩcookagia ngaatho, ndĩ kĩrĩndĩ-inĩ hĩndĩ ya ciathĩ.
5 Why am I so discouraged? Why do I feel so sad? I will hope in God; I will praise him because he is the one who saves me—
Wee ngoro yakwa, ũkĩritũhĩirwo nĩkĩ? Ũrathĩĩnĩka ũguo nĩkĩ ũrĩ thĩinĩ wakwa? Wĩrĩgagĩrĩre Ngai, nĩgũkorwo no ndĩrĩmũgoocaga, o we Mũhonokia wakwa, na Ngai wakwa.
6 my God! Even though I am very discouraged, I still remember you: from the land of Jordan and Hermon, and from Mount Mizar.
Ngoro yakwa nĩnditũhĩre ĩrĩ thĩinĩ wakwa; nĩ ũndũ ũcio nĩngũkũririkana ndĩ bũrũri wa Jorodani, o kũu irĩma-inĩ cia Herimoni, kuuma Kĩrĩma-inĩ kĩa Mizari.
7 You thunder through the raging waters, through the noise of the waterfalls. Your crashing waves surge over me—I feel like I'm drowning.
Ndia ĩmwe nĩĩreta ndia ĩrĩa ĩngĩ na mũgambo wa mũrurumo wa ndururumo ciaku cia maaĩ; makũmbĩ maku mothe o na ndiihũ nĩciũkĩte, ikaahubanĩria.
8 But every day the Lord shows me his trustworthy love; every night he gives me songs to sing—a prayer to the God of my life.
Mũthenya-rĩ, Jehova nĩarĩathagĩrĩra wendo wake harĩ niĩ, na ũtukũ nĩ rwĩmbo ndĩrĩmũinagĩra, rũrĩ ihooya rĩa kũhooya Mũrungu wa muoyo wakwa.
9 I cry out, “My God, my rock, why have you forgotten me? Why must I go around weeping because of the attacks of my enemies?”
Njũũragia Mũrungu, o we rwaro rwakwa rwa Ihiga, atĩrĩ, “Ũriganĩirwo nĩ niĩ nĩkĩ? Ingĩthiĩ ngĩcakayaga nĩkĩ, nĩ ũndũ wa kũhinyĩrĩirio nĩ thũ?”
10 The mocking of my attackers crushes my bones. They're always asking me, “Where is your God?”
Nĩ ta ngũhehenjwo mahĩndĩ makwa, rĩrĩa amuku akwa mekũnyũrũria, magatinda mũthenya wothe makĩnjũũria atĩrĩ, “Ngai waku akĩrĩ ha?”
11 Why am I so discouraged? Why do I feel so sad? I will hope in God; I will praise him because he is the one who saves me—my God!
Wee ngoro yakwa, ũkĩritũhĩirwo nĩkĩ? Ũrathĩĩnĩka ũguo nĩkĩ ũrĩ thĩinĩ wakwa? Wĩrĩgagĩrĩre Ngai, nĩgũkorwo no ndĩrĩmũgoocaga, o we Mũhonokia wakwa na Ngai wakwa.
