Habakkuk 3
1 A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, [set] on shigionoth:
(En Bøn af Profeten Hahakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.)
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 dit Ry, jeg har skuet din Gerning, HERRE. Fuldbyrd det i Årenes Løb, åbenbar dig i Årenes Løb, kom Barmhjertighed i Hu under Vreden!
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 drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.
4 And the brightness is as the light, He has rays out of His hand, And there—the hiding of His strength.
Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgår Stråler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.
5 Before Him goes pestilence, And a burning flame goes forth at His feet.
Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger 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.
Hans Fjed får Jorden til at skælve, hans Blik får Folk til at bæve. De ældgamle Bjerge brister, de evige Høje synker, ad evige Stier går han.
7 Under sorrow I have seen tents of Cushan, Curtains of the land of Midian tremble.
Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.
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 HERREN da vred på Strømmene, gælder din Vrede Strømmene, gælder din Harme Havet, siden du farer frem på dine Heste og dine Vogne drøner.
9 You make Your bow utterly naked, The tribes have sworn, saying, (Pause) You cleave the earth [with] rivers.
Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,
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.
Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.
11 Sun—moon—has stood—a habitation, Your arrows go on at the light, At the brightness, the glittering of Your spear.
Solen glemmer at stå op, Månen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.
12 In indignation You tread earth, In anger You thresh nations.
I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.
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 drager ud til Frelse for dit Folk, ud for at frelse din Salvede. Du knuser den gudløses Hustag, blotter Grunden til Klippen. (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.
Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, bans Høvdinger splittes.
15 You have proceeded through the sea with Your horses—the clay of many waters.
Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.
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 hørte det; da bæved min Krop, ved Braget skjalv mine Læber; Edder for i mine Ben, og under mig vakled mine Skridt. Jeg bier på Trængselens Dag over Folket, som volder os Krig.
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 blomstrer ikke, Vinstokken giver intet, Olietræets Afgrøde svigter, Markerne giver ej Føde. Fårene svandt af Folden, i Staldene findes ej Okser.
18 Yet I, in YHWH I exult, I am joyful in the God of my salvation.
Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble 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 HERREN er min Styrke, han gør mine Fødder som Hindens og lader mig gå på mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren. Med Strengespil.
