Job 30
1 “But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
“No rĩu-rĩ, andũ ethĩ kũngĩra nĩmaanyũrũragia, arĩa o na itangĩendire gũturanĩra maithe mao na ngui ciakwa cia rũũru.
2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
Hinya wa moko mao ũngĩangʼunire nakĩ, kuona atĩ hinya wao nĩwamehereire?
3 They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
Nĩmathĩnĩkĩte nĩ ũndũ wa wagi na ngʼaragu, ũtukũ-rĩ, moorũũraga bũrũri mũngʼaru, bũrũri mwanangĩku ũkirĩte ihooru.
4 They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.
Maahaaraga nyeni cia mahuti ma cumbĩ kuuma ihinga-inĩ, na irio ciao ciarĩ mĩri ya mũtĩ wa kĩhaato.
5 They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,
Nĩmaingatirwo kuuma kũrĩ mũingĩ, makiugĩrĩrio ta maarĩ aici.
6 so that they live in frightful valleys, and 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 They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.
Maanagia ta nyamũ kũu ihinga-inĩ, makahatĩkanagĩra kũu mahuti-inĩ.
8 They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.
Rũciaro rũtarĩ kĩene na rũtarĩ rĩĩtwa, nĩ rwarutũrũrirwo ruume kũu bũrũri-inĩ.
9 “Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
“Na rĩu ariũ ao maraanyũrũria na rwĩmbo; ngagĩtuĩka wa kuunagwo thimo nĩo.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
Nĩmathũire na magaikaraga haraihu na niĩ; matiĩtigagĩra kũnduĩra mata ũthiũ.
11 For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.
Nĩ ũndũ rĩu Ngai nĩaregeretie ũta wakwa, na akandeehera mathĩĩna-rĩ, matirĩ ũndũ merigagĩrĩria gwĩka marĩ harĩa ndĩ.
12 On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.
Mwena wakwa wa ũrĩo kũrĩ rũrĩrĩ rũratharĩkĩra; maigagĩra magũrũ makwa mĩtego, na magaaka ihumbu ciao cia gũũtharĩkĩra.
13 They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.
Maharaganagia njĩra yakwa; mahotaga kũnyũnũha o na gũtarĩ na mũndũ ũramateithia.
14 As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
Mokĩte ta matoonyeire mwanya-inĩ mwariĩ; mokĩire gatagatĩ ga kũu kwanangĩku, makaamomokera.
15 Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
Imakania nĩcihootete; gĩtĩĩo gĩakwa kĩũmbũrĩtwo ta kĩhurutĩtwo nĩ rũhuho, naguo ũgitĩri wakwa ũkabuĩria ta itu.
16 “Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
“Na rĩu muoyo wakwa nĩũrathirĩrĩkĩra; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanyiitĩte.
17 In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
Ũtukũ ũtheecangaga mahĩndĩ makwa; ruo rwa gũthegenya rũtindigithagĩria.
18 My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
Ngai angũnjakũnjaga ta nguo na ũndũ wa ũhoti wake mũnene; aanyiitaga ta kanjũ yakwa ngingo-inĩ.
19 He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.
Anjikĩtie ndoro-inĩ, ngatuĩka ta rũkũngũ na ta mũhu.
20 I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.
“Nĩwe ndĩrakaĩra, o Wee Ngai, no ndũranjĩtĩka; ndĩrarũgama, no wee no kũndora ũrandora.
21 You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might 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 drive me with it. You dissolve me in the 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 living.
Nĩnjũũĩ nĩũkanginyia o gĩkuũ-inĩ, ũndware kũrĩa gwathĩrĩirwo arĩa othe marĩ muoyo.
24 “However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
“Ti-itherũ gũtirĩ mũndũ ũũkagĩrĩra mũndũ ũthuthĩkĩte ngoro, hĩndĩ ĩrĩa egũkaya ateithio arĩ mĩnyamaro-inĩ.
25 Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
Niĩ-rĩ, githĩ ndianarĩrio nĩ arĩa marĩ na thĩĩna? Githĩ ngoro yakwa ndĩanaiguĩra arĩa athĩĩni kĩeha?
26 When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.
No rĩrĩ, rĩrĩa ndeerĩgagĩrĩra wega, ũũru ũgĩũka; rĩrĩa ndaacaragia ũtheri-rĩ, hĩndĩ ĩyo nduma ĩgĩũka.
27 My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.
Nda yakwa ndĩtigaga kũruruma; matukũ ma thĩĩna nĩmanginyĩire.
28 I go mourning without 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, and a companion to ostriches.
Nduĩkĩte mũrũ wa nyina na mbwe, ngatuĩka mũthiritũ wa ndundu.
30 My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.
Gĩkonde gĩakwa nĩkĩgarũrũkĩte, gĩgathita na gĩkoonũka; mwĩrĩ wakwa ũhiũhĩte nĩ ũrugarĩ.
31 Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
Kĩnanda gĩakwa kĩa mũgeeto kĩrutaga o mũgambo wa gũcakaya, naguo mũtũrirũ wakwa ũkaruta o mũgambo wa kĩrĩro.
