< Job 17 >
1 My breath is exhausted; My days are at an end; The grave is ready for me.
Roho wakwa nĩmũthuthĩku, matukũ makwa nĩmathirĩte, mbĩrĩra nĩyo ĩnjetereire.
2 Are not revilers before me? And doth not my eye dwell upon their provocations?
Ti-itherũ thiũrũrũkĩirio nĩ andũ a kũũnyũrũria; maitho makwa no nginya meerorere rũmena rwao.
3 Give a pledge, I pray thee; be thou a surety for me with thee; Who is he that will 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 Behold, thou hast blinded their understanding; Therefore thou wilt not suffer them to prevail.
Wee nĩwaagithĩtie meciiria mao ũmenyo; nĩ ũndũ ũcio ndũngĩmetĩkĩria mahootane.
5 He who delivereth up his friends as a prey, —The eyes of his children shall fail.
Mũndũ angĩkaana arata ake nĩ ũndũ wa kĩheo-rĩ, maitho ma ciana ciake nĩmakoora.
6 He made me the by-word of the people; Yea, I have become their abhorrence.
“Ngai nĩanduĩte mũndũ wa kuunwo thimo nĩ andũ othe, nduĩkĩte mũndũ wa gũtuagĩrwo mata ũthiũ nĩ andũ.
7 My eye therefore is dim with sorrow, And all my limbs are as a shadow.
Maitho makwa nĩ maroora nĩ gwĩthikĩra; ciĩga ciakwa ciothe ihũthĩte o ta kĩĩruru.
8 Upright men will be astonished at this, And the innocent will rouse themselves against the wicked.
Andũ arĩa arũngĩrĩru nĩmagegetio nĩ ũhoro ũcio; andũ arĩa matarĩ na ũũru mekĩte nĩmarahũkĩte mokĩrĩre andũ arĩa matooĩ Ngai.
9 The righteous will also hold on his way, And he that hath clean hands will gather strength.
O na kũrĩ ũguo-rĩ, arĩa athingu nĩmarĩrũmagia njĩra ciao, nao arĩa marĩ moko matheru nĩmarĩongagĩrĩrwo hinya.
10 But as for you all, return, I pray! I find not yet among you one wise man.
“No rĩrĩ, ta gĩũkei inyuothe, geriai o rĩngĩ! Niĩ ndirĩ ndĩrona mũndũ mũũgĩ gatagatĩ kanyu.
11 My days are at an end; My plans are broken off; Even the treasures of my heart.
Matukũ makwa nĩ mathiru, mĩbango yakwa nĩmĩharaganie, o na merirĩria ma ngoro yakwa.
12 Night hath become day to me; The light bordereth on darkness.
Andũ aya magarũraga ũtukũ makaũtua mũthenya; nduma yamakinyĩrĩra moigaga atĩrĩ, ‘Ũtheri ũrĩ o hakuhĩ.’
13 Yea, I look to the grave as my home; I have made my bed in darkness. (Sheol )
Angĩkorwo mũciĩ ũrĩa njĩrĩgĩrĩire no mbĩrĩra, angĩkorwo ingĩara ũrĩrĩ wakwa o nduma-inĩ-rĩ, (Sheol )
14 I say to the pit, Thou art my father! And to the worm, My mother! and, My sister!
angĩkorwo no njĩĩre ũhoro wa kũbutha atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe baba,’ na njĩĩre kĩgunyũ atĩrĩ, ‘Wee nĩwe maitũ’ kana ‘Nĩwe mwarĩ wa maitũ-rĩ’,
15 Where then is my hope? Yea, my hope, who shall see it?
mwĩhoko wakwa ũkĩrĩ kũ? Nũũ ũngĩnyonera mwĩhoko?
16 It must go down to the bars of the under-world, As soon as there is rest for me in the dust. (Sheol )
Na rĩrĩ, mwĩhoko nĩũharũrũkĩte nginya ihingo-inĩ cia gĩkuũ? Nĩtũgũgĩikũrũkania hamwe rũkũngũ-inĩ?” (Sheol )