Psalms 12

1 [For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.] Help, LORD; for the faithful ceases. For the loyal have vanished from among the descendants of Adam.

Dawid dwom. Boa yɛn, Awurade, na nyamesurofoɔ asa; nokwafoɔ ayera wɔ nnipa mu.

2 Everyone lies to his neighbor. They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

Obiara di atorɔ kyerɛ ne yɔnko; wɔn ano a ɛdɛfɛdɛfɛ no ka nnaadaasɛm.

3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that boasts,

Ma Awurade ntwa nnaadaa ano ne tɛkrɛma biara a ɛhoahoa ne ho ntwene;

4 who have said, "With our tongue we will prevail. Our lips are our own. Who is lord over us?"

wɔn a wɔse, “Yɛde yɛn tɛkrɛma bɛdi nkonim; yɛn ano yɛ yɛn dea, na hwan ne yɛn wura?”

5 "Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise," says the LORD; "I will place in safety the one who longs for it."

“Esiane nhyɛ a wɔde hyɛ mmɔborɔni no ne ohiani apenesie no enti, mɛsɔre afei,” Awurade na ɔseɛ. “Mɛbɔ wɔn ho ban afiri wɔn a wɔha wɔn ho.”

6 The words of the LORD are flawless words, as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

Awurade asɛm yɛ nokorɛ te sɛ dwetɛ a wɔasɔne so wɔ fononoo mu, na wɔahoa ho mprɛnson.

7 You, LORD, will protect us. You will guard us from this generation forever.

Ao Awurade, wobɛkora yɛn na woabɔ yɛn ho ban afebɔɔ afiri saa abɔnefoɔ yi ho,

8 The wicked walk on every side, when what is vile is exalted among the descendants of Adam.

abɔnefoɔ a wɔnenam sɛdeɛ wɔpɛ ɛberɛ a adasamma de anidie ma afideɛ. Wɔde ma dwomkyerɛfoɔ.