Job 27
1 And Job adds to lift up his allegory and says:
Nake Ayubu agĩthiĩ na mbere na mĩario yake, akiuga atĩrĩ:
2 “God lives! He turned aside my judgment, And the Mighty—He made my soul bitter.
“Ti-itherũ o ta ũrĩa Mũrungu atũũraga muoyo, o we ũnyimĩte kĩhooto, ũcio Mwene-Hinya-Wothe, ũrĩa ũtũmĩte ngĩe na ũrũrũ ngoro-inĩ-rĩ,
3 For all the while my breath [is] in me, And the wind of God in my nostrils.
hĩndĩ ĩrĩa yothe niĩ ngũtũũra muoyo, nayo mĩhũmũ ya Ngai ĩrĩ maniũrũ-inĩ makwa,
4 My lips do not speak perverseness, And my tongue does not utter deceit.
mĩromo yakwa ndĩkaaria maũndũ ma waganu, na rũrĩmĩ rwakwa rũtikaaria maheeni.
5 Defilement to me—if I justify you, Until I expire I do not turn aside my integrity from me.
Niĩ ndigetĩkĩra atĩ nĩ inyuĩ mũrĩ na kĩhooto; nginya rĩrĩa ngaakua, ndigakaana ũkindĩrĩku wakwa.
6 On my righteousness I have laid hold, And I do not let it go, My heart does not reproach me while I live.
Nĩngũtũũria ũthingu wakwa na ndikaũrekia; thamiri yakwa ndĩkanjiirithia rĩrĩa rĩothe ngũtũũra muoyo.
7 My enemy is as the wicked, And my withstander as the perverse.
“Thũ ciakwa irogĩtuĩka ta arĩa aaganu, arĩa marĩ muku na niĩ marotuĩka ta arĩa matarĩ kĩhooto!
8 For what [is] the hope of the profane, When He cuts off? When God casts off his soul?
Tondũ-rĩ, kĩĩrĩgĩrĩro kĩa ũrĩa ũtarĩ mwĩtigĩri Ngai gĩkĩrĩ kĩrĩkũ akua, hĩndĩ ĩrĩa Ngai ooya muoyo wake?
9 [Does] God hear his cry, When distress comes on him?
Mũrungu nĩakĩiguaga gũkaya gwake rĩrĩa akorwo nĩ mĩnyamaro?
10 Does he delight himself on the Mighty? Call God at all times?
Nĩakenagĩra ũcio Mwene-Hinya-Wothe? Nĩakayagĩra Ngai mahinda mothe?
11 I show you by the hand of God, That which [is] with the Mighty I do not hide.
“Nĩngũmũruta ũhoro wĩgiĩ ũhoti wa Mũrungu; ndikũhitha njĩra cia Mwene-Hinya-Wothe.
12 Behold, you—all of you—have seen, And why [is] this—you are altogether vain?
Inyuothe nĩmwĩoneire maũndũ macio. Ĩkĩrĩ yakĩ mĩario ĩno ĩtarĩ kĩene?
13 This [is] the portion of wicked man with God, And the inheritance of terrible ones They receive from the Mighty.
“Ũũ nĩguo Mũrungu aathagĩrĩria arĩa aaganu, na nĩrĩo igai rĩrĩa mũndũ ũrĩa ũtarĩ tha aamũkagĩra kuuma kũrĩ Mwene-Hinya-Wothe:
14 If his sons multiply—a sword [is] for them. And his offspring [are] not satisfied [with] bread.
O na ciana ciake ciaingĩha atĩa, ciathĩrĩirio rũhiũ rwa njora; rũciaro rwake rũtikoona irio cia kũrũigana.
15 His remnant are buried in death, And his widows do not weep.
Mũthiro nĩguo ũkaaninũkia arĩa agaatiga thuutha wake, na atumia ao a ndigwa matikamarĩrĩra.
16 If he heaps up silver as dust, And prepares clothing as clay,
O na angĩonganĩrĩria betha ta rũkũngũ, na agĩe na nguo nyingĩ ta hĩba cia rĩũmba,
17 He prepares—and the righteous puts [it] on, And the innocent apportions the silver.
kĩrĩa egũcookanĩrĩria gĩkehumbwo nĩ ũrĩa mũthingu, na arĩa matarĩ mahĩtia nĩo makaagayana betha yake.
18 He has built his house as a moth, And as a shelter a watchman has made.
Nyũmba ĩrĩa aakaga no ta nyũmba ya kĩĩhuruta, ningĩ no ta gĩthũnũ gĩakĩtwo nĩ mũrangĩri.
19 He lies down rich, and he is not gathered, He has opened his eyes, and he is not.
Agaakoma arĩ mũtongu, no ndagacooka gwĩka ũguo rĩngĩ; akaahingũra maitho akore gũtirĩ kĩndũ arĩ nakĩo.
20 Terrors overtake him as waters, By night a whirlwind has stolen him away.
Imakania imũkoragĩrĩra ta mũiyũro wa maaĩ; kĩhuhũkanio gĩkaamũhuria ũtukũ.
21 An east wind takes him up, and he goes, And it frightens him from his place,
Rũhuho rwa mwena wa Irathĩro rũmuoyaga akabuĩria; rũmweheragia kũrĩa atũũraga.
22 And it casts at him, and does not spare, He diligently flees from its hand.
Rũmũhurutaga rũtarĩ na tha o rĩrĩa aroorĩra hinya waruo.
23 It claps its hands at him, And it hisses at him from his place.”
Rũhũũraga hĩ rũkamũkenerera, na rũkagamba ta nyoka rũkamũruta kũrĩa atũũraga.”
