Job 24
1 Wherefore, since from the Almighty times are not hid, have, his knowing ones, no vision of his days?
Hvorfor har ej den Almægtige opsparet Tider, hvi faar de, som kender ham, ikke hans Dage at se?
2 Boundaries, men move back, flocks, they seize and consume;
De onde flytter Markskel, ranede Hjorde har de paa Græs.
3 The ass of the fatherless, they drive off, they take in pledge the ox of the widow;
faderløses Æsel fører de bort, tager Enkens Okse som Borgen:
4 They turn aside the needy out of the way, at once, are the humbled of the land made to hide themselves.
de trænger de fattige af Vejen. Landets arme maa alle skjule sig.
5 Lo! [as] wild asses in the wilderness, they go forth with their work, eager seekers for prey, the waste plain, yieldeth them food for their young;
Som vilde Æsler i Ørkenen gaar de ud til deres Gerning søgende efter Næring; Steppen er Brød for Børnene.
6 In the field—a man’s fodder, they cut down, and, the vineyard of the lawless, they strip of its late berries;
De høster paa Marken om Natten, i Rigmandens Vingaard sanker de efter.
7 Ill-clad, they are left to lodge without clothing, and have no covering in the cold;
Om Natten ligger de nøgne, uden Klæder, uden Tæppe i Kulden.
8 With the sweeping rain of the mountains, are they wet, and, through having no shelter, they embrace a rock.
De vædes af Bjergenes Regnskyl, klamrer sig af Mangel paa Ly til Klippen.
9 Men tear, from the breast, the fatherless, and, over the poor, they take a pledge;
— Man river den faderløse fra Brystet, tager den armes Barn som Borgen. —
10 Naked, they go about without clothing, and, famished, they carry the sheaves;
Nøgne vandrer de, uden Klæder, sultne bærer de Neg;
11 Between their walls, are they exposed to the sun, Wine-presses, they tread, and yet are thirsty;
mellem Murene presser de Olie, de træder Persen og tørster.
12 Out of the city—out of the houses, they make outcry. and, the soul of the wounded, calleth for help, and, GOD, doth not regard it as foolish.
De drives fra By og Hus, og Børnenes Hunger skriger. Men Gud, han ænser ej vrangt.
13 They, have become rebels against the light, —they are not acquainted with the ways thereof, neither abide they in the paths thereof.
Andre hører til Lysets Fjender, de kender ikke hans Veje og holder sig ej paa hans Stier:
14 With the light, riseth the murderer, He slayeth the poor and needy, And, in the night, he becometh like a thief.
Før det lysner, staar Morderen op, han myrder arm og fattig; om Natten sniger Tyven sig om;
15 And, the eye of the adulterer, watcheth for the evening twilight, saying, Not an eye will see me! A covering for the face, he putteth on;
Horkarlens Øje lurer paa Skumring, han tænker: »Intet Øje kan se mig!« og skjuler sit Ansigt under en Maske.
16 He breaketh, in the dark, into houses, —By day, they lock themselves in, They know not the light;
I Mørke bryder de ind i Huse, de lukker sig inde om Dagen, thi ingen af dem vil vide af Lys.
17 For, in the case of all such, morning to them is the death-shade, For, to be recognised, is a death-shade terror.
For dem er Mørket Morgen, thi de er kendt med Mørkets Rædsler.
18 Swift is he on the face of the waters, Speedily vanished their share in the land, He turneth not to the way of the vineyards.
Over Vandfladen jages han hen, hans Arvelod i Landet forbandes, han færdes ikke paa Vejen til Vingaarden.
Som Tørke og Hede tager Snevand, saa Dødsriget dem, der har syndet. (Sheol h7585)
20 Maternal love shall forget him, the worm shall find him sweet, No more shall he be remembered, but perversity shall be shivered like a tree.
Han er glemt paa sin Hjemstavns Torv, hans Storhed kommes ej mer i Hu, Uretten knækkes som Træet.
21 He oppresseth the barren who beareth not, and, to the widow, he doeth not good;
Han var ond mod den golde, der ikke fødte, mod Enken gjorde han ikke vel;
22 Yea he draggeth along the mighty by his strength, He riseth up, and none hath assurance of life;
dem, det gik skævt, rev han bort i sin Vælde. Han staar op og er ikke tryg paa sit Liv,
23 It is given him to be secure, and confident, yet, his eyes, are upon their ways.
han styrtes uden Haab og Støtte, og paa hans Veje er idel Nød.
24 They are exalted a little, and are not, Yea having been laid low, like all men, are they gathered, Even as the top of an ear of corn, do they hang down.
Hans Storhed er stakket, saa er han ej mer, han bøjes og skrumper ind som Melde og skæres af som Aksenes Top.
25 But, if not, who then can convict me of falsehood? or make of no account my words?
Og hvis ikke — hvo gør mig til Løgner, hvo gør mine Ord til intet?
