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.
“No rĩu-rĩ, andũ ethĩ kũngĩra nĩmaanyũrũragia, arĩa o na itangĩendire gũturanĩra maithe mao na ngui ciakwa cia rũũru.
2 Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
Hinya wa moko mao ũngĩangʼunire nakĩ, kuona atĩ hinya wao nĩwamehereire?
3 In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
Nĩmathĩnĩkĩte nĩ ũndũ wa wagi na ngʼaragu, ũtukũ-rĩ, moorũũraga bũrũri mũngʼaru, bũrũri mwanangĩku ũkirĩte ihooru.
4 Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
Maahaaraga nyeni cia mahuti ma cumbĩ kuuma ihinga-inĩ, na irio ciao ciarĩ mĩri ya mũtĩ wa kĩhaato.
5 Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
Nĩmaingatirwo kuuma kũrĩ mũingĩ, makiugĩrĩrio ta maarĩ aici.
6 In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
Nĩmahatĩrĩirio maikarage mĩkuru-inĩ ya tũrũũĩ tũhũu, kũu ndwaro-inĩ cia mahiga na marima-inĩ marĩa marĩ thĩ.
7 Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
Maanagia ta nyamũ kũu ihinga-inĩ, makahatĩkanagĩra kũu mahuti-inĩ.
8 Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
Rũciaro rũtarĩ kĩene na rũtarĩ rĩĩtwa, nĩ rwarutũrũrirwo ruume kũu bũrũri-inĩ.
9 But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
“Na rĩu ariũ ao maraanyũrũria na rwĩmbo; ngagĩtuĩka wa kuunagwo thimo nĩo.
10 They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
Nĩmathũire na magaikaraga haraihu na niĩ; matiĩtigagĩra kũnduĩra mata ũthiũ.
11 Because, my girdle, he had loosened and had humbled me, therefore, the bridle—in my presence, cast they off;
Nĩ ũndũ rĩu Ngai nĩaregeretie ũta wakwa, na akandeehera mathĩĩna-rĩ, matirĩ ũndũ merigagĩrĩria gwĩka marĩ harĩa ndĩ.
12 On my right hand, the young brood rose up, —My feet, they thrust aside, and cast up against me their earthworks of destruction;
Mwena wakwa wa ũrĩo kũrĩ rũrĩrĩ rũratharĩkĩra; maigagĩra magũrũ makwa mĩtego, na magaaka ihumbu ciao cia gũũtharĩkĩra.
13 They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
Maharaganagia njĩra yakwa; mahotaga kũnyũnũha o na gũtarĩ na mũndũ ũramateithia.
14 As through a wide breach, came they on, with a crashing noise, they rolled themselves along.
Mokĩte ta matoonyeire mwanya-inĩ mwariĩ; mokĩire gatagatĩ ga kũu kwanangĩku, makaamomokera.
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.
Imakania nĩcihootete; gĩtĩĩo gĩakwa kĩũmbũrĩtwo ta kĩhurutĩtwo nĩ rũhuho, naguo ũgitĩri wakwa ũkabuĩria ta itu.
16 Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
“Na rĩu muoyo wakwa nĩũrathirĩrĩkĩra; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanyiitĩte.
17 Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
Ũtukũ ũtheecangaga mahĩndĩ makwa; ruo rwa gũthegenya rũtindigithagĩria.
18 Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
Ngai angũnjakũnjaga ta nguo na ũndũ wa ũhoti wake mũnene; aanyiitaga ta kanjũ yakwa ngingo-inĩ.
19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Anjikĩtie ndoro-inĩ, ngatuĩka ta rũkũngũ na ta mũhu.
20 I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
“Nĩwe ndĩrakaĩra, o Wee Ngai, no ndũranjĩtĩka; ndĩrarũgama, no wee no kũndora ũrandora.
21 Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;
Wee nĩũngarũrũkĩte ũtarĩ na tha; ũtharĩkĩire na hinya wa guoko gwaku.
22 Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
Nĩũũhurĩtie, ũkaandindĩka mbere ya rũhuho; ũũnyugutanĩtie kĩhuhũkanio-inĩ.
23 For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.
Nĩnjũũĩ nĩũkanginyia o gĩkuũ-inĩ, ũndware kũrĩa gwathĩrĩirwo arĩa othe marĩ muoyo.
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.
“Ti-itherũ gũtirĩ mũndũ ũũkagĩrĩra mũndũ ũthuthĩkĩte ngoro, hĩndĩ ĩrĩa egũkaya ateithio arĩ mĩnyamaro-inĩ.
25 Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.
Niĩ-rĩ, githĩ ndianarĩrio nĩ arĩa marĩ na thĩĩna? Githĩ ngoro yakwa ndĩanaiguĩra arĩa athĩĩni kĩeha?
26 Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
No rĩrĩ, rĩrĩa ndeerĩgagĩrĩra wega, ũũru ũgĩũka; rĩrĩa ndaacaragia ũtheri-rĩ, hĩndĩ ĩyo nduma ĩgĩũka.
27 I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
Nda yakwa ndĩtigaga kũruruma; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanginyĩire.
28 In gloom, I walked along, without sun, I arose—in the convocation, I cried out for help;
Thiiaga njirĩte biũ, no ti ũndũ wa kũhĩa nĩ riũa; ngarũgama kĩũngano-inĩ ngakaya ndeithio.
29 A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
Nduĩkĩte mũrũ wa nyina na mbwe, ngatuĩka mũthiritũ wa ndundu.
30 My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
Gĩkonde gĩakwa nĩkĩgarũrũkĩte, gĩgathita na gĩkoonũka; mwĩrĩ wakwa ũhiũhĩte nĩ ũrugarĩ.
31 Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
Kĩnanda gĩakwa kĩa mũgeeto kĩrutaga o mũgambo wa gũcakaya, naguo mũtũrirũ wakwa ũkaruta o mũgambo wa kĩrĩro.
