Job 17
1 My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, and the graue is readie for me.
Brudt er min Ånd, mine Dage slukt, og Gravene venter mig;
2 There are none but mockers with mee, and mine eye continueth in their bitternesse.
visselig, Spot er min Del, og bittert er, hvad mit Øje må skue.
3 Lay downe nowe and put me in suretie for thee: who is hee, that will touch mine hand?
Stil Sikkerhed for mig hos dig! Hvem anden giver mig Håndslag?
4 For thou hast hid their heart from vnderstanding: therefore shalt thou not set them vp on hie.
Thi du lukked deres Hjerte for Indsigt, derfor vil du ikke ophøje dem;
5 For the eyes of his children shall faile, that speaketh flattery to his friends.
den, der forråder Venner til Plyndring, hans Sønners Øjne hentæres.
6 Hee hath also made mee a byword of the people, and I am as a Tabret before them.
Til Mundheld har du gjort mig for Folk, jeg er blevet et Jærtegn for dem;
7 Mine eye therefore is dimme for griefe, and all my strength is like a shadowe.
mit Øje er sløvet af Kvide, som Skygger er mine Lemmer til Hobe;
8 The righteous shalbe astonied at this, and the innocent shalbe moued against ye hypocrite.
retsindige stivner af Rædsel ved sligt, over vanhellig harmes den skyldfri,
9 But the righteous wil holde his way, and he whose hands are pure, shall increase his strength.
men den retfærdige holder sin Vej, en renhåndet vokser i Kraft.
10 All you therefore turne you, and come nowe, and I shall not finde one wise among you.
Men I, mød kun alle frem igen, en Vismand fnder jeg ikke iblandt jer!
11 My dayes are past, mine enterprises are broken, and the thoughts of mine heart
Mine Dage stunder mod Døden, brudt er mit Hjertes Ønsker;
12 Haue changed the nyght for the day, and the light that approched, for darkenesse.
Natten gør jeg til Dag, Lyset for mig er Mørke;
13 Though I hope, yet the graue shall bee mine house, and I shall make my bed in the darke. (Sheol h7585)
vil jeg håbe, får jeg dog Bolig i Døden, jeg reder i Mørket mit Leje, (Sheol h7585)
14 I shall say to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worme, Thou art my mother and my sister.
Graven kalder jeg Fader, Forrådnelsen Moder og Søster.
15 Where is then now mine hope? or who shall consider the thing, that I hoped for?
Hvor er da vel mit Håb, og hvo kan øjne min Lykke?
