Job 27
1 Job resumed speaking and he said,
Job heldt fram med talen sin og sagde:
2 “As surely as God lives, who has taken away my justice, the Almighty, who made my life bitter,
«So sant Gud liver, som meg sveik, og Allvalds som meg volde sorg
3 while my life is yet in me, and the breath from God is in my nostrils, this is what I will do.
- for endå eg min ande dreg; i nosi mi er guddomspust -:
4 My lips will not speak wickedness, neither will my tongue speak deceit;
Urett ligg ei på mine lippor; mi tunga talar ikkje svik.
5 I will never admit that you three are right; until I die I will never deny my integrity.
D’er langt frå meg å gje’ dykk rett, mi uskyld held eg fast til dauden.
6 I hold fast to my righteousness and will not let it go; my thoughts will not reproach me so long as I live.
Mi rettferd held eg fast uskjepla, eg ingen dag treng skjemmast ved.
7 Let my enemy be like a wicked man; let him who rises up against me be like an unrighteous man.
Min fiend’ skal seg syna gudlaus, min motstandar som urettferdig.
8 For what is the hope of a godless man when God cuts him off, when God takes away his life?
Kva von hev en gudlaus att, når Gud vil sjæli or han draga?
9 Will God hear his cry when trouble comes upon him?
Vil Gud vel høyra skriket hans, når trengsla bryt innyver honom?
10 Will he delight himself in the Almighty and call upon God at all times?
Kann han i Allvald vel seg gleda? Kann han kvar tid påkalla Gud?
11 I will teach you concerning the hand of God; I will not conceal the thoughts of the Almighty.
Eg um Guds hand vil læra dykk; kva Allvald vil, det dyl eg ikkje.
12 See, all of you have seen this yourselves; why then have you spoken all this nonsense?
Sjå dette hev det alle set; kvi talar de då tome ord?
13 This is the portion of a wicked man with God, the heritage of the oppressor that he receives from the Almighty:
Den lut fær gudlause av Gud, den arven valdsmann fær av Allvald.
14 If his children multiply, it is for the sword; his offspring will never have enough food.
Til sverdet veks hans søner upp; hans avkom mettast ei med brød;
15 Those who survive him will be buried by plague, and their widows will make no lament for them.
dei siste legst i grav ved pest, og enkjorne held ingi klaga.
16 Though the wicked man heaps up silver like the dust, and heaps up clothing like clay,
Og um han dyngjer sylv som dust og samlar klæde liksom leir:
17 he may heap up clothing, but righteous people will put it on, and innocent people will divide up the silver among themselves.
Den rettvise tek klædi på; skuldlause skifter sylvet hans.
18 He builds his house like a spider, like a hut that a guard makes.
Han byggjer huset sitt som molen, likt hytta vaktmannen set upp.
19 He lies down in bed rich, but he will not keep doing so; he opens his eyes, and everything is gone.
Rik legg han seg - men aldri meir; han opnar augo - og er burte.
20 Terrors overtake him like waters; a storm takes him away in the night.
Som vatsflaum rædsla honom tek, ved natt riv stormen honom burt.
21 The east wind carries him away, and he leaves; it sweeps him out of his place.
Han driv av stad for austanvind, som blæs han frå hans heimstad burt.
22 It throws itself at him and does not stop; he tries to flee out of its hand.
Han utan miskunn på han skyt; frå handi hans han røma må.
23 It claps its hands at him in mockery; it hisses him out of his place.
Med hender klappar dei åt han og pip han frå hans heimstad burt.
