Job 16
1 Then answered Job, and said,
Så tog Job til Orde og svarede:
2 I have heard many things such as these: troublesome comforters are ye all.
"Nok har jeg hørt af sligt, besværlige Trøstere er I til Hobe!
3 Shall there be any end to words of wind? or what compelleth thee that thou shouldst answer?
Får Mundsvejret aldrig Ende? Hvad ægged dig dog til at svare?
4 I also could well speak as ye do: if your soul were but in my soul's stead, I could overwhelm you with words, and could shake my head at you.
Også jeg kunde tale som I, hvis I kun var i mit Sted, føje mine Ord imod jer og ryste på Hovedet ad jer,
5 But I would strengthen you with my mouth, and the condolence of my lips should restrain [your grief].
styrke jer med min Mund, ej spare på ynksomme Ord!
6 Though I were to speak, my pain would not be restrained; and though I should forbear, what will go away from me?
Taler jeg, mildnes min Smerte ikke og om jeg tier, hvad Lindring får jeg?
7 But now he hath made me weary: thou hast made desolate all my company.
Dog nu har han udtømt min Kraft, du bar ødelagt hele min Kreds;
8 And thou hast filled me with wrinkles, they are my witnesses; and my leanness riseth up for me, giveth its testimony to my face.
at du greb mig, gælder som Vidnesbyrd mod mig, min Magerhed vidner imod mig.
9 In his wrath he teareth me to pieces, and assaileth me: he gnasheth over me with his teeth; my adversary sendeth threatening looks at me.
Hans Vrede river og slider i mig, han skærer Tænder imod mig. Fjenderne hvæsser Blikket imod mig,
10 They now open wide against me their mouth; reproachfully they smite my cheek: altogether do they assemble against me.
de opspiler Gabet imod mig, slår mig med Hån på Kind og flokkes til Hobe omkring mig;
11 God hath surrendered me to the unjust, and cast me down into the hands of the wicked.
Gud gav mig hen i Niddingers Vold, i gudløses Hænder kasted han mig.
12 I was at ease, but he hath crushed me; he hath also grasped me by the neck, and shaken me to pieces, and set me up unto himself as a mark;
Jeg leved i Fred, så knuste han mig, han greb mig i Nakken og sønderslog mig; han stilled mig op som Skive,
13 His archers encompass me round about; he cleaveth my reins sunder, and doth not pity; he poureth out upon the ground my gall;
hans Pile flyver omkring mig, han borer i Nyrerne uden Skånsel, udgyder min Galde på Jorden;
14 He breaketh me down with breach upon breach; he runneth against me like a mighty man.
Revne på Revne slår han mig, stormer som Kriger imod mig.
15 Sackcloth have I sewed upon my skin, and my horn I roll in the dust.
Over min Hud har jeg syet Sæk og boret mit Horn i Støvel;
16 My face gloweth from weeping, and on my eyelids resteth the shadow of death:
mit Ansigt er rødt af Gråd, mine Øjenlåg hyllet i Mørke,
17 Not because any violence is in my hands, and while my prayer is pure.
skønt der ikke er Vold i min Hånd, og skønt min Bøn er ren!
18 Earth! do thou not cover up my blood, and let no place restrain my cry.
Dølg ikke, Jord, mit Blod, mit Skrig komme ikke til Hvile!
19 Even now, behold, my witness is in the heavens, and one that testifieth for me is on high.
Alt nu er mit Vidne i Himlen, min Talsmand er i det høje;
20 Are my friends my defenders? unto God my eye poureth out [its tears].
gid min Ven lod sig finde! Mit Øje vender sig med Tårer til Gud,
21 And oh that a man might plead with God, as one son of earth with the other!
at han skifter Ret mellem Manden og Gud, mellem Mennesket og hans Ven!
22 For when the numbered years are passed, then must I travel a path whence I cannot return.
Thi talte er de kommende År, jeg skal ud på en Færd, jeg ej vender hjem fra.
