Job 27
1 Job again took up his parable, and said,
Job heldt fram med talen sin og sagde:
2 “As God lives, who has taken away my right, the Almighty, who has made my soul bitter
«So sant Gud liver, som meg sveik, og Allvalds som meg volde sorg
3 (for the length of my life is still in me, and the spirit of God is in my nostrils);
- for endå eg min ande dreg; i nosi mi er guddomspust -:
4 surely my lips will not speak unrighteousness, neither will my tongue utter deceit.
Urett ligg ei på mine lippor; mi tunga talar ikkje svik.
5 Far be it from me that I should justify you. Until I die I will not put away my integrity from me.
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 heart 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 as the wicked. Let him who rises up against me be as the unrighteous.
Min fiend’ skal seg syna gudlaus, min motstandar som urettferdig.
8 For what is the hope of the godless, when he is cut 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 on him?
Vil Gud vel høyra skriket hans, når trengsla bryt innyver honom?
10 Will he delight himself in the Almighty, and call on God at all times?
Kann han i Allvald vel seg gleda? Kann han kvar tid påkalla Gud?
11 I will teach you about the hand of God. I will not conceal that which is with the Almighty.
Eg um Guds hand vil læra dykk; kva Allvald vil, det dyl eg ikkje.
12 Behold, all of you have seen it yourselves; why then have you become altogether vain?
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 oppressors, which they receive from the Almighty.
Den lut fær gudlause av Gud, den arven valdsmann fær av Allvald.
14 If his children are multiplied, it is for the sword. His offspring will not be satisfied with bread.
Til sverdet veks hans søner upp; hans avkom mettast ei med brød;
15 Those who remain of him will be buried in death. His widows will make no lamentation.
dei siste legst i grav ved pest, og enkjorne held ingi klaga.
16 Though he heap up silver as the dust, and prepare clothing as the clay;
Og um han dyngjer sylv som dust og samlar klæde liksom leir:
17 he may prepare it, but the just will put it on, and the innocent will divide the silver.
Den rettvise tek klædi på; skuldlause skifter sylvet hans.
18 He builds his house as the moth, as a booth which the watchman makes.
Han byggjer huset sitt som molen, likt hytta vaktmannen set upp.
19 He lies down rich, but he will not do so again. He opens his eyes, and he is not.
Rik legg han seg - men aldri meir; han opnar augo - og er burte.
20 Terrors overtake him like waters. A storm steals 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 departs. It sweeps him out of his place.
Han driv av stad for austanvind, som blæs han frå hans heimstad burt.
22 For it hurls at him, and does not spare, as he flees away from his hand.
Han utan miskunn på han skyt; frå handi hans han røma må.
23 Men will clap their hands at him, and will hiss him out of his place.
Med hender klappar dei åt han og pip han frå hans heimstad burt.
