Psalms 11

1 To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David. In the LORD I put my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?

Nǝƣmiqilǝrning bexiƣa tapxurulup oⱪulsun dǝp, Dawut yazƣan küy: — Pǝrwǝrdigarni baxpanaⱨim ⱪildim; Əmdi silǝr ⱪandaⱪmu manga: «Ⱪuxtǝk ɵz teƣingƣa uqup ⱪaq!

2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may secretly shoot at the upright in heart.

Qünki mana, rǝzillǝr kamanni tartip, Ⱪarangƣuluⱪtin kɵngli duruslarƣa ⱪaritip atmaⱪqi bolup, Ular oⱪni kiriqⱪa selip ⱪoydi;

3 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

«Ullar ⱨalak ⱪilinsa, Əmdi ⱨǝⱪⱪaniylar nemimu ⱪilar?»» — dǝwatisilǝr?

4 The LORD is in his holy temple, the LORD’S throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.

Pǝrwǝrdigar Ɵzining muⱪǝddǝs ibadǝthanisididur, Pǝrwǝrdigarning tǝhti asmanlardidur; U nǝzǝr salidu, Uning sǝzgür kɵzliri insan balilirini kɵzitip, sinaydu.

5 The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

Pǝrwǝrdigar ⱨǝⱪⱪaniy adǝmni sinaydu; Rǝzillǝrgǝ wǝ zorawanliⱪⱪa huxtarlarƣa u iq-iqidin nǝprǝtlinidu.

6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.

U rǝzillǝrgǝ ⱪapⱪanlar, ot wǝ günggürtni yaƣduridu; Piȥƣirim ⱪiziⱪ xamal ularning ⱪǝdǝⱨidiki nesiwisi bolidu.

7 For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance beholdeth the upright.

Qünki Pǝrwǝrdigar ⱨǝⱪⱪaniydur; Ⱨǝⱪⱪaniyliⱪ Uning amriⱪidur; Kɵngli duruslar Uning didarini kɵridu.