Job 24
1 Why are not times treasured up by the Almighty? And why do not they who know him see his days?
Hvorfor har ej den Almægtige opsparet Tider, hvi får de, som kender ham, ikke hans Dage at se?
2 They remove landmarks; They take away flocks by violence, and pasture them.
De onde flytter Markskel, ranede Hjorde har de på Græs.
3 They drive away the ass of the fatherless, And take the widow's ox for a pledge.
faderløses Æsel fører de bort, tager Enkens Okse som Borgen:
4 They push the needy from the way; All the poor of the land are forced to hide themselves.
de trænger de fattige af Vejen. Landets arme må alle skjule sig.
5 Behold, like wild asses of the desert, they go forth to their work; They search for prey; The wilderness supplieth them food for their children.
Som vilde Æsler i Ørkenen går de ud til deres Gerning søgende efter Næring; Steppen er Brød for Børnene.
6 In the fields they reap the harvest, And gather the vintage of the oppressor.
De høster på Marken om Natten, i Rigmandens Vingård sanker de efter.
7 They lodge naked, without clothing, And without covering from the cold.
Om Natten ligger de nøgne, uden Klæder, uden Tæppe i Hulden.
8 They are drenched with the mountain showers, And embrace the rock for want of shelter.
De vædes af Bjergenes Regnskyl, klamrer sig af Mangel på Ly til Klippen.
9 The fatherless are torn from the breast, And the garment of the needy is taken for a pledge.
- Man river den faderløse fra Brystet, tager den armes Barn som Borgen.
10 They go naked, without clothing, And carry the sheaf hungry.
Nøgne vandrer de, uden Klæder, sultne bærer de Neg;
11 They make oil within their walls, And tread the wine-vat, yet suffer thirst.
mellem Murene presser de Olie. de træder Persen og tørster.
12 From anguish the dying groan, And the wounded cry aloud; And God regardeth not their prayer!
De drives fra By og Hus, og Børnenes Hunger skriger. Men Gud, han ænser ej vrangt.
13 Others hate the light; They know not its ways, And abide not in its paths.
Andre hører til Lysets Fjender, de kender ikke hans Veje og holder sig ej på hans Stier:
14 With the light ariseth the murderer; He killeth the poor and needy; In the night he is as a thief.
Før det lysner, står Morderen op, han myrder arm og fattig; om Natten sniger Tyven sig om;
15 The eye of the adulterer watcheth for the twilight; He saith, “No eye will see me,” And putteth a mask upon his face.
Horkarlens Øje lurer på Skumring, han tænker: "Intet Øje kan se mig!" og skjuler sit Ansigt under en Maske.
16 In the dark they break into houses; In the daytime they shut themselves up; They are strangers to the light.
I Mørke bryder de ind i Huse, de lukker sig inde om Dagen, thi ingen af dem vil vide af Lys.
17 The morning is to them the very shadow of death; They are familiar with the terrors of the shadow of death.
For dem er Mørket Morgen, thide er kendt med Mørkets Rædsler.
18 Light are they on the face of the waters; They have an accursed portion in the earth; They come not near the vineyards.
Over Vandfladen jages han hen, hans Arvelod i Landet forbandes, han færdes ikke på Vejen til Vingården.
Som Tørke og Hede tager Snevand, så Dødsriget dem, der har syndet. (Sheol h7585)
20 His own mother forgetteth him; The worm feedeth sweetly on him; He is no more remembered, And iniquity is broken like a tree.
Han er glemt på sin Hjemstavns Torv, hans Storhed kommes ej mer i Hu, Uretten knækkes som Træet.
21 He oppresseth the barren, that hath not borne, And doeth not good to the widow.
Han var ond mod den golde, der ikke fødte, mod Enken gjorde han ikke vel;
22 He taketh away the mighty by his power; He riseth up, and no one is sure of life.
dem, det gik skævt, rev han bort i sin Vælde. Han står op og er ikke tryg på sit Liv,
23 God giveth them security, so that they are confident; His eyes are upon their ways.
han styrtes uden Håb og Støtte, og på hans Veje er idel Nød.
24 They are exalted; —in a little while they are gone! They are brought low, and die, like all others; And like the topmost ears of corn are they cut off.
Hans Storhed er stakket, så er han ej mer, han bøjes og skrumper ind som Melde og skæres af som Aksenes Top.
25 If it be not so, who will confute me, And show my discourse to be worthless?
Og hvis ikke - hvo gør mig til Løgner, hvo gør mine Ord til intet?
