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 seesei wɔsere me, nnipa a manyini sene wɔn, na wɔn agyanom mfata sɛ wɔne me nnwan ho nkraman tena.
2 Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
Mfasoɔ bɛn na wɔn nsa mu ahoɔden wɔ ma me, ɛberɛ a wɔn ahoɔden afiri wɔn mu?
3 In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
Ohia ne ɛkɔm ama wɔn ho atete, wɔnante asase wesee ne asase bonini so anadwo.
4 Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
Wɔboaboaa nkyenhahan ano wɔ nkyɛkyerɛ mu, na wɔde ɛserɛ so nnua nhini yɛɛ wɔn aduane.
5 Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
Wɔn mfɛfoɔ pamoo wɔn firii wɔn mu, na wɔhuroo wɔn sɛ akorɔmfoɔ.
6 In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
Wɔhyɛɛ wɔn ma wɔtenaa nsuka a emu awo, abotan ne ɛfam ntokuro mu.
7 Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
Wɔsuu sɛ mfunumu wɔ wiram na wɔfoforee so wɔ ɔdɔtɔ ase.
8 Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
Ekuo a wɔmfra na wɔnni din, wɔpam wɔn firii asase no so.
9 But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
“Na ɛnnɛ yi wɔn mmammarima de dwom bɔ me akutia; mayɛ abusudeɛ wɔ wɔn mu.
10 They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
Wɔkyiri me na wɔnnka mma me ho; wɔmmfɛre sɛ wɔtete ntasuo 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 deɛ 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;
Abusuakuo no to hyɛ me so wɔ me nifa so; wɔsum me nan mfidie, na wɔsisi apie tia me.
13 They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
Wɔsisi mʼakwan; na wɔnya 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 deɛ wɔfiri ntokuro a ano abae mu; wɔnam mmubuiɛ no mu munimuni 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 dwiri me; mʼanimuonyam atu kɔ sɛdeɛ mframa abɔ agu, me banbɔ atu ayera sɛ omununkum.
16 Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
“Na seesei, me nkwa resa; na amanehunu nna akyekyere me.
17 Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
Anadwo wowɔ me nnompe mu; ɔyea a ɛwe me no nnyae.
18 Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
Onyankopɔn firi ne tumi mu yɛ sɛ aduradeɛ ma me; ɔmia me te sɛ mʼatadeɛ kɔn.
19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Ɔto me twene atɛkyɛ mu na ɔma me yɛ sɛ mfuturo ne nsõ.
20 I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
“Ao Onyankopɔn, mesu mefrɛ wo, nanso wommua 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 anibereɛ so; wode wʼabasa mu tumi to hyɛ me so.
22 Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
Wohwim me na wode mframa pia me; wodankyidankyi 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.
Menim sɛ wode me bɛkɔ owuo mu, baabi a woahyɛ ama ateasefoɔ nyinaa.
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 ɛberɛ 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 anaa? Me kra werɛ anho amma ahiafoɔ anaa?
26 Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
Nanso ɛberɛ a mʼani da papa so no, bɔne baeɛ; ɛberɛ a mepɛɛ hann no, esum na ɛduruuɛ.
27 I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
Meyafunu 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 a ɛnyɛ sɛ owia na ahye me; megyina adwaberem na mesu pɛ mmoa.
29 A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
Madane nnompo nuabarima, me ne apatuo na ɛbɔ.
30 My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
Me honam ani abiri na ɛhwanehwane; huraeɛ ama me ho adɔ.
31 Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
Me sankuo bɔ kwadwom, na mʼatɛntɛbɛn ma agyaadwotwa nnyegyeɛ.
