Psalms 12

1 To the Chief Musician. On the Octave. A Melody of David. O save Yahweh, for the man of lovingkindness, is no more, for the faithful, have vanished, from among the sons of men.

Pou direktè koral la; sou yon gita uit kòd Yon sòm David. Sekou, SENYÈ, paske moun ladwati yo sispann egziste, Paske fidèl yo vin disparèt pami fis a lòm yo.

2 Deception, speak they, every one with his neighbour, —with lips uttering smooth things—with a heart and a heart, do they speak.

Yo pale sa ki fo a youn lòt. Lèv flatè yo ak kè doub yo pale.

3 May Yahweh cut off All the lips that utter smooth things, —the tongue that speaketh swelling words;

Ke SENYÈ a vin koupe tout lèv flatè yo, ak lang ki pale gwo bagay yo;

4 Them who say—With our tongue, will we prevail, our lips, are our own, who is our master?

ki te di: “Avèk lang nou, nou va reyisi. Lèv nou se pou nou. Se kilès ki kab mèt sou nou?”

5 Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say, —I will place [him] in safety—let him puff at him!

“Akoz dega a aflije yo, akoz kri a malere yo, koulye a, Mwen va leve”, pale SENYÈ a; “Mwen va mete li ansekirite de (sila) ki maltrete l la.”

6 The words of Yahweh, are words, that are pure, silver refined in a crucible of earth, purified seven times!

Pawòl a SENYÈ a se pawòl ki san tach; tankou ajan ki teste nan founo, rafine nan tè sèt fwa.

7 Thou, O Yahweh, wilt keep them, —Thou wilt guard him, from this generation unto times age-abiding.

Ou menm, O SENYÈ, va pwoteje yo. Ou va prezève yo soti nan jenerasyon (sila) a jis pou tout tan.

8 On every side, the lawless, march about, —when worthlessness is exalted by the sons of men.

Mechan yo pwomennen toupatou tout kote lè bagay ki lèd vin leve wo pami fis a lòm yo.