Job 30
1 Now those who are younger than I have nothing but mockery for me— these young men whose fathers I would have refused to allow to work beside 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 Indeed, the strength of their fathers' hands, how could it have helped me— men in whom the strength of their mature age had perished?
Hinya wa moko mao ũngĩangʼunire nakĩ, kuona atĩ hinya wao nĩwamehereire?
3 They were thin from poverty and hunger; they gnawed at the dry ground in the darkness of wilderness and desolation.
Nĩmathĩnĩkĩte nĩ ũndũ wa wagi na ngʼaragu, ũtukũ-rĩ, moorũũraga bũrũri mũngʼaru, bũrũri mwanangĩku ũkirĩte ihooru.
4 They plucked saltwort and bushes' leaves; the roots of the broom tree were their food.
Maahaaraga nyeni cia mahuti ma cumbĩ kuuma ihinga-inĩ, na irio ciao ciarĩ mĩri ya mũtĩ wa kĩhaato.
5 They were driven out from among people who shouted after them as one would shout after a thief.
Nĩmaingatirwo kuuma kũrĩ mũingĩ, makiugĩrĩrio ta maarĩ aici.
6 So they had to live in river valleys, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
Nĩmahatĩrĩirio maikarage mĩkuru-inĩ ya tũrũũĩ tũhũu, kũu ndwaro-inĩ cia mahiga na marima-inĩ marĩa marĩ thĩ.
7 Among the bushes they brayed like donkeys and they gathered together under the nettles.
Maanagia ta nyamũ kũu ihinga-inĩ, makahatĩkanagĩra kũu mahuti-inĩ.
8 They were the sons of fools, indeed, sons of nameless people! They were driven out of the land with whips.
Rũciaro rũtarĩ kĩene na rũtarĩ rĩĩtwa, nĩ rwarutũrũrirwo ruume kũu bũrũri-inĩ.
9 But now I have become the subject of their taunting song; I have become a byword for them.
“Na rĩu ariũ ao maraanyũrũria na rwĩmbo; ngagĩtuĩka wa kuunagwo thimo nĩo.
10 They abhor me and stand far off from me; they do not refrain from spitting in my face.
Nĩmathũire na magaikaraga haraihu na niĩ; matiĩtigagĩra kũnduĩra mata ũthiũ.
11 For God has unstrung the string to my bow and afflicted me, and those who taunt me cast off restraint before my face.
Nĩ ũndũ rĩu Ngai nĩaregeretie ũta wakwa, na akandeehera mathĩĩna-rĩ, matirĩ ũndũ merigagĩrĩria gwĩka marĩ harĩa ndĩ.
12 Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they drive me away and pile up against me their siege mounds.
Mwena wakwa wa ũrĩo kũrĩ rũrĩrĩ rũratharĩkĩra; maigagĩra magũrũ makwa mĩtego, na magaaka ihumbu ciao cia gũũtharĩkĩra.
13 They destroy my path; they push forward disaster for me, men who have no one to hold them back.
Maharaganagia njĩra yakwa; mahotaga kũnyũnũha o na gũtarĩ na mũndũ ũramateithia.
14 They come against me like an army through a wide hole in a city wall; in the midst of the destruction they roll themselves in on me.
Mokĩte ta matoonyeire mwanya-inĩ mwariĩ; mokĩire gatagatĩ ga kũu kwanangĩku, makaamomokera.
15 Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is driven away as if by the wind; my prosperity passes away as a cloud.
Imakania nĩcihootete; gĩtĩĩo gĩakwa kĩũmbũrĩtwo ta kĩhurutĩtwo nĩ rũhuho, naguo ũgitĩri wakwa ũkabuĩria ta itu.
16 Now my life is pouring out from within me; many days of suffering have laid hold on me.
“Na rĩu muoyo wakwa nĩũrathirĩrĩkĩra; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanyiitĩte.
17 In the night my bones in me are pierced; the pains that gnaw at me take no rest.
Ũtukũ ũtheecangaga mahĩndĩ makwa; ruo rwa gũthegenya rũtindigithagĩria.
18 God's great force has seized my clothing; it wraps around me like the collar of my tunic.
Ngai angũnjakũnjaga ta nguo na ũndũ wa ũhoti wake mũnene; aanyiitaga ta kanjũ yakwa ngingo-inĩ.
19 He has thrown me into the mud; I have become like dust and ashes.
Anjikĩtie ndoro-inĩ, ngatuĩka ta rũkũngũ na ta mũhu.
20 I cry to you, God, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you merely look at me.
“Nĩwe ndĩrakaĩra, o Wee Ngai, no ndũranjĩtĩka; ndĩrarũgama, no wee no kũndora ũrandora.
21 You have changed and become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you persecute me.
Wee nĩũngarũrũkĩte ũtarĩ na tha; ũtharĩkĩire na hinya wa guoko gwaku.
22 You lift me up to the wind and cause it to drive me along; you throw me back and forth in a storm.
Nĩũũhurĩtie, ũkaandindĩka mbere ya rũhuho; ũũnyugutanĩtie kĩhuhũkanio-inĩ.
23 For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all the living.
Nĩnjũũĩ nĩũkanginyia o gĩkuũ-inĩ, ũndware kũrĩa gwathĩrĩirwo arĩa othe marĩ muoyo.
24 However, does no one reach out with his hand to beg for help when he falls? Does no one in trouble call out for help?
“Ti-itherũ gũtirĩ mũndũ ũũkagĩrĩra mũndũ ũthuthĩkĩte ngoro, hĩndĩ ĩrĩa egũkaya ateithio arĩ mĩnyamaro-inĩ.
25 Did not I weep for him who was in trouble? Did I not grieve for the needy man?
Niĩ-rĩ, githĩ ndianarĩrio nĩ arĩa marĩ na thĩĩna? Githĩ ngoro yakwa ndĩanaiguĩra arĩa athĩĩni kĩeha?
26 When I hoped for good, then evil came; when I waited for light, darkness came instead.
No rĩrĩ, rĩrĩa ndeerĩgagĩrĩra wega, ũũru ũgĩũka; rĩrĩa ndaacaragia ũtheri-rĩ, hĩndĩ ĩyo nduma ĩgĩũka.
27 My heart is troubled and does not rest; days of affliction have come on me.
Nda yakwa ndĩtigaga kũruruma; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanginyĩire.
28 I have gone about like one who was living in the dark, but not because of the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
Thiiaga njirĩte biũ, no ti ũndũ wa kũhĩa nĩ riũa; ngarũgama kĩũngano-inĩ ngakaya ndeithio.
29 I am a brother to jackals, a companion of ostriches.
Nduĩkĩte mũrũ wa nyina na mbwe, ngatuĩka mũthiritũ wa ndundu.
30 My skin is black and falls away from me; my bones are burned with heat.
Gĩkonde gĩakwa nĩkĩgarũrũkĩte, gĩgathita na gĩkoonũka; mwĩrĩ wakwa ũhiũhĩte nĩ ũrugarĩ.
31 Therefore my harp is tuned for songs of mourning, my flute for the singing of those who wail.
Kĩnanda gĩakwa kĩa mũgeeto kĩrutaga o mũgambo wa gũcakaya, naguo mũtũrirũ wakwa ũkaruta o mũgambo wa kĩrĩro.
