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.
“Nanso mprempren wɔserew me, nnipa a manyin sen wɔn, na wɔn agyanom mfata sɛ wɔne me nguan ho akraman tena.
2 Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
Mfaso bɛn na wɔn nsa mu ahoɔden wɔ ma me, bere a wɔn ahoɔden afi wɔn mu?
3 In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
Ohia ne ɔkɔm ama wɔn ho atetew, wɔnantew asase kesee ne asase bonin so anadwo.
4 Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
Wɔboaboaa nkyenhaban ano wɔ nkyɛkyerɛ mu, na wɔde sare so nnua ntin yɛɛ wɔn aduan.
5 Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
Wɔn mfɛfo pam wɔn fii wɔn mu, na wohuroo wɔn sɛ akorɔmfo.
6 In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
Wɔhyɛɛ wɔn ma wɔtenaa suka a emu awo, abotan ne fam ntokuru mu,
7 Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
wosuu sɛ mfurum wɔ wuram na wɔfofɔree so wɔ ɔdɔtɔ ase.
8 Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
Kuw a wɔmfra na wonni din, wɔpam wɔn fii asase no so.
9 But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
“Na nnɛ yi wɔn mmabarima de dwom bɔ me akutia; mayɛ abusude wɔ wɔn mu.
10 They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
Wokyi me na wontwiw mmɛn me; wɔmmfɛre sɛ wɔtete ntasu gu mʼanim.
11 Because, my girdle, he had loosened and had humbled me, therefore, the bridle—in my presence, cast they off;
Afei a Onyankopɔn abubu me tadua na ɔde amanehunu aba me so yi, wɔyɛ nea wɔpɛ wɔ mʼanim.
12 On my right hand, the young brood rose up, —My feet, they thrust aside, and cast up against me their earthworks of destruction;
Abusuakuw no tow hyɛ me so wɔ me nifa so; wosum mʼanan mfiri, na wosisi mpie tia me.
13 They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
Wosisiw mʼakwan; na wonya me sɛe me na obiara mmoa me.
14 As through a wide breach, came they on, with a crashing noise, they rolled themselves along.
Wɔba te sɛ nea wofi ntokuru a ano abae mu; wɔnam mmubui no mu munumunum ba.
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.
Ahunahuna ma me ho dwiriw me; mʼanuonyam atu kɔ sɛnea mframa abɔ agu, me bammɔ atu ayera sɛ omununkum.
16 Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
“Na mprempren, me nkwa resa; na amanehununna akyekyere me.
17 Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
Anadwo wowɔ me nnompe mu; ɔyaw a ɛwe me no nnyae.
18 Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
Onyankopɔn fi ne tumi mu yɛ sɛ adurade ma me; omia me te sɛ mʼatade kɔn.
19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Ɔtow me kyene dontori mu na ɔma me yɛ sɛ mfutuma ne nsõ.
20 I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
“Onyankopɔn, misu mefrɛ wo, nanso wummua me. Mesɔre gyina, nanso wohwɛ me kɛkɛ.
21 Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;
Woba me so anibere so; wode wʼabasa mu tumi tow hyɛ me so.
22 Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
Wuhwim me na wode mframa pia me; wudenkyidenkyi me wɔ ahum mu.
23 For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.
Minim sɛ wode me bɛkɔ owu mu, faako a woahyɛ ama ateasefo nyinaa no.
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.
“Ampa ara obiara mfa ne nsa nka onipa a ɔrebrɛ bere a ɔresu pɛ mmoa wɔ nʼamanehunu mu.
25 Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.
Mansu amma wɔn a wɔwɔ ɔhaw mu ana? Me kra werɛ anhow amma ahiafo ana?
26 Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
Nanso bere a mʼani da papa so no, bɔne bae; bere a mepɛɛ hann no sum na edurui.
27 I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
Me yafunu mu a ɛwowɔ me no nnyae da; na nna a amanehunu wɔ mu da mʼanim.
28 In gloom, I walked along, without sun, I arose—in the convocation, I cried out for help;
Menenam a mabiri, nanso ɛnyɛ sɛ owia na ahyew me; migyina aguabɔbea na misu pɛ mmoa.
29 A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
Madan nnompo nuabarima, me ne mpatu na ɛbɔ.
30 My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
Me honam ani biri na ehuanhuan; atiridii ama me ho adɔ.
31 Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
Me sanku bɔ kwadwom, na mʼatɛntɛbɛn ma agyaadwotwa nnyigyei.
