Job 30
1 But, now, they who are of fewer days than I, have poured derision upon me; whose fathers I refused—to set with the dogs of my flock.
Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
2 Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
3 In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
4 Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
5 Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve råbes der efter dem.
6 In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
7 Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
8 Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
9 But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
Men nu er jeg Hånsang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
10 They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
11 Because, my girdle, he had loosened and had humbled me, therefore, the bridle—in my presence, cast they off;
Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
12 On my right hand, the young brood rose up, —My feet, they thrust aside, and cast up against me their earthworks of destruction;
Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slår de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig
13 They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
14 As through a wide breach, came they on, with a crashing noise, they rolled themselves along.
de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
15 There are turned upon me terrors, —Chased away as with a wind, is mine abundance, and, as a cloud, hath passed away my prosperity.
Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
16 Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
17 Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
18 Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
20 I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du står der og ænser mig ikke;
21 Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;
grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Hånd.
22 Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
23 For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.
thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
24 Only, against a heap of ruins, will one not thrust a hand! Surely, when one is in calamity—for that very reason, is there an outcry for help.
Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Hånden ud og råber om Hjælp, når han går under?
25 Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.
Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det hårdt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
26 Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
Jeg biede på Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg håbed på Lys, men Mørke kom;
27 I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
28 In gloom, I walked along, without sun, I arose—in the convocation, I cried out for help;
trøstesløs går jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og råber;
29 A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
30 My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
31 Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Gråd!
