Job 17
1 My spirit is broken, my days are cut short, the grave is ready for me.
Roho wakwa nĩmũthuthĩku, matukũ makwa nĩmathirĩte, mbĩrĩra nĩyo ĩnjetereire.
2 Yet truly those that mock are with me, and on their offendings must my eye rest.
Ti-itherũ thiũrũrũkĩirio nĩ andũ a kũũnyũrũria; maitho makwa no nginya meerorere rũmena rwao.
3 And thou, [Creator!] attend, I pray thee, be my surety with thyself: who else is there that would strike hands with me?
“Wee Ngai-rĩ, ta kĩĩhe kĩndũ gĩa kũrũgamĩrĩra thiirĩ wakwa kĩrĩa ũretia, tondũ-rĩ, nũũ ũngĩ ũngĩĩtĩkĩra kũruta kĩndũ gĩake kĩĩndũgamĩrĩre?
4 For thou hast concealed their heart against intelligence: therefore art thou not exalted [through them].
Wee nĩwaagithĩtie meciiria mao ũmenyo; nĩ ũndũ ũcio ndũngĩmetĩkĩria mahootane.
5 Every one of them speaketh deceptively to his friends: may also the eyes of his children fail.
Mũndũ angĩkaana arata ake nĩ ũndũ wa kĩheo-rĩ, maitho ma ciana ciake nĩmakoora.
6 And he hath placed me here as a by-word unto nations; and I become openly as a place of abomination.
“Ngai nĩanduĩte mũndũ wa kuunwo thimo nĩ andũ othe, nduĩkĩte mũndũ wa gũtuagĩrwo mata ũthiũ nĩ andũ.
7 Therefore is my eye dim from vexation, and my limbs are all of them like a shadow.
Maitho makwa nĩ maroora nĩ gwĩthikĩra; ciĩga ciakwa ciothe ihũthĩte o ta kĩĩruru.
8 Upright men must be astonished at this, and the innocent must arouse himself against the hypocrite.
Andũ arĩa arũngĩrĩru nĩmagegetio nĩ ũhoro ũcio; andũ arĩa matarĩ na ũũru mekĩte nĩmarahũkĩte mokĩrĩre andũ arĩa matooĩ Ngai.
9 Yet will the righteous hold firmly on to his way; and he that is clean of hands will acquire additional strength.
O na kũrĩ ũguo-rĩ, arĩa athingu nĩmarĩrũmagia njĩra ciao, nao arĩa marĩ moko matheru nĩmarĩongagĩrĩrwo hinya.
10 But all of you, do only return, and come but [to me]: and yet I shall not find among you one wise man.
“No rĩrĩ, ta gĩũkei inyuothe, geriai o rĩngĩ! Niĩ ndirĩ ndĩrona mũndũ mũũgĩ gatagatĩ kanyu.
11 My days are past, my resolves are broken off, [even the thoughts]—the possessions of my heart.
Matukũ makwa nĩ mathiru, mĩbango yakwa nĩmĩharaganie, o na merirĩria ma ngoro yakwa.
12 These would change the night into day, the light as near in the presence of darkness.—
Andũ aya magarũraga ũtukũ makaũtua mũthenya; nduma yamakinyĩrĩra moigaga atĩrĩ, ‘Ũtheri ũrĩ o hakuhĩ.’
13 When I hope for the nether world as my house; in the darkness have I spread my couch; (Sheol h7585)
Angĩkorwo mũciĩ ũrĩa njĩrĩgĩrĩire no mbĩrĩra, angĩkorwo ingĩara ũrĩrĩ wakwa o nduma-inĩ-rĩ, (Sheol h7585)
14 When I call to corruption, Thou art my father: Thou art my mother, and my sister, to the worms.
angĩkorwo no njĩĩre ũhoro wa kũbutha atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe baba,’ na njĩĩre kĩgunyũ atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe maitũ’ kana ‘Nĩwe mwarĩ wa maitũ-rĩ’,
15 Ay, where is then my hope? as for my hope, who will see it [fulfilled]?
mwĩhoko wakwa ũkĩrĩ kũ? Nũũ ũngĩnyonera mwĩhoko?
