< Habakkuk 3 >
1 A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, [set] on shigionoth:
En Bøn af Profeten Habakuk; efter Sigjonoth.
2 O YHWH, I heard your report, I have been afraid, O YHWH, Your work! In midst of years revive it, In the midst of years You make known, In anger You remember mercy.
Herre! jeg har hørt Tidenden om dig, jeg frygter; Herre! din Gerning, kald den til Live midt i Aarene, midt i Aarene kundgøre du den; i Vrede komme du i Hu at være barmhjertig!
3 God comes from Teman, The Holy One from Mount Paran. (Pause) His splendor has covered the heavens, And His praise has filled the earth.
Gud kommer fra Theman og den Hellige fra Parans Bjerg. (Sela) Hans Majestæt bedækker Himmelen, og af hans Herlighed fyldes Jorden.
4 And the brightness is as the light, He has rays out of His hand, And there—the hiding of His strength.
Og en Glans som Lyset bryder frem, Straaler har han til Siden, og der skjuler han sin Magt.
5 Before Him goes pestilence, And a burning flame goes forth at His feet.
Foran ham gaar Pesten, og efter ham udgaar dræbende Sot.
6 He has stood, and He measures earth, He has seen, and He shakes off nations, And mountains of antiquity scatter themselves, The hills of old have bowed, The ways of old [are] His.
Han træder frem og bringer Jorden til at ryste, han ser til og bringer Folkene til at skælve, og de evige Bjerge briste, de ældgamle Høje synke; hans Tog ere som i fordums Tid.
7 Under sorrow I have seen tents of Cushan, Curtains of the land of Midian tremble.
Jeg ser Kusans Telte i Vaande, Telttæpperne i Midians Land ryste.
8 Has YHWH been angry against rivers? Against rivers [is] Your anger? [Is] Your wrath against the sea? For You ride on Your horses—Your chariots of salvation.
Er vel din Vrede, o Herre! optændt imod Floderne? din Vrede imod Floderne og din Harme imod Havet? at du saa farer frem paa dine Heste, paa dine Vogne til Frelse.
9 You make Your bow utterly naked, The tribes have sworn, saying, (Pause) You cleave the earth [with] rivers.
Din blottede Bue tages frem, med Ed stadfæstede ved Ordet ere Straffens Ris. (Sela) I Strømme kløver du Jorden.
10 Seen You—pained are mountains, An inundation of waters has passed over, The deep has given forth its voice, It has lifted up its hands high.
Bjerge se dig, de skælve; Vandstrømme styrte ned, Afgrunden hæver sin Røst, den opløfter sine Hænder imod det høje.
11 Sun—moon—has stood—a habitation, Your arrows go on at the light, At the brightness, the glittering of Your spear.
Sol og Maane træde tilbage i deres Bolig for Lyset af dine Pile, som fare frem, for Glansen af dit Spyds Lyn.
12 In indignation You tread earth, In anger You thresh nations.
I Fortørnelse skrider du frem paa Jorden, i Vrede nedtræder du Hedningerne.
13 You have gone forth for the salvation of Your people, For salvation with Your Anointed, You have struck the head of the house of the wicked, Laying bare the foundation to the neck. (Pause)
Du er dragen ud til dit Folks Frelse, til din Salvedes Frelse; du knuser Hovedet af den ugudeliges Hus, idet du blotter Grundvolden op til Halsen. (Sela)
14 You have pierced the head of his leaders with his own rods, They are tempestuous to scatter me, Their exultation [is] as to consume the poor in secret.
Du gennemborer ved hans Spyd Hovederne paa hans Skarer, som storme frem for at adsprede mig, og hvis Glæde var som til at æde den elendige i Skjul.
15 You have proceeded through the sea with Your horses—the clay of many waters.
Du drager igennem Havet paa dine Heste, igennem de mange Vandes Hob.
16 I have heard, and my belly trembles, At the noise have my lips quivered, Rottenness comes into my bones, And in my place I tremble, That I rest for a day of distress, At the coming up of the people, he overcomes it.
Jeg har hørt det, og mit Indre bævede, ved Røsten dirrede mine Læber, der kommer Skørhed i mine Ben, og jeg ryster, hvor jeg staar, fordi jeg skal være rolig til Nødens Dag, indtil han, som med en Skare skal angribe Folket, drager op imod det.
17 Though the fig tree does not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, The work of the olive has failed, And fields have not yielded food, The flock has been cut off from the fold, And there is no herd in the stalls,
Thi Figentræet skal ikke blomstre, og der er ingen Afgrøde paa Vintræerne, Olietræets Frugt slaar fejl, og Markerne give ikke Spise; Faarene ere revne bort fra Folden, og der er ingen Øksne i Staldene.
18 Yet I, in YHWH I exult, I am joyful in the God of my salvation.
Men jeg vil glæde mig i Herren; jeg vil fryde mig i min Frelses Gud.
19 YHWH the Lord [is] my strength, And He makes my feet like does, And causes me to tread on my high-places. To the overseer with my stringed instruments!
Den Herre, Herre er min Styrke, og han gør mine Fødder som Hindernes og lader mig skride frem over mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren; med min Strengeleg.