Job 24
1 “Why aren’t times laid up by the Almighty? Why don’t those who know him see his days?
Hvorfor har ej den Almægtige opsparet Tider, hvi får de, som kender ham, ikke hans Dage at se?
2 There are people who remove the landmarks. They violently take away flocks, and feed them.
De onde flytter Markskel, ranede Hjorde har de på Græs.
3 They drive away the donkey of the fatherless, and they take the widow’s ox for a pledge.
faderløses Æsel fører de bort, tager Enkens Okse som Borgen:
4 They turn the needy out of the way. The poor of the earth all hide themselves.
de trænger de fattige af Vejen. Landets arme må alle skjule sig.
5 Behold, as wild donkeys in the desert, they go out to their work, seeking diligently for food. The wilderness yields them bread for their children.
Som vilde Æsler i Ørkenen går de ud til deres Gerning søgende efter Næring; Steppen er Brød for Børnene.
6 They cut their food in the field. They glean the vineyard of the wicked.
De høster på Marken om Natten, i Rigmandens Vingård sanker de efter.
7 They lie all night naked without clothing, and have no covering in the cold.
Om Natten ligger de nøgne, uden Klæder, uden Tæppe i Hulden.
8 They are wet with the showers of the mountains, and embrace the rock for lack of a shelter.
De vædes af Bjergenes Regnskyl, klamrer sig af Mangel på Ly til Klippen.
9 There are those who pluck the fatherless from the breast, and take a pledge of the poor,
- Man river den faderløse fra Brystet, tager den armes Barn som Borgen.
10 so that they go around naked without clothing. Being hungry, they carry the sheaves.
Nøgne vandrer de, uden Klæder, sultne bærer de Neg;
11 They make oil within the walls of these men. They tread wine presses, and suffer thirst.
mellem Murene presser de Olie. de træder Persen og tørster.
12 From out of the populous city, men groan. The soul of the wounded cries out, yet God doesn’t regard the folly.
De drives fra By og Hus, og Børnenes Hunger skriger. Men Gud, han ænser ej vrangt.
13 “These are of those who rebel against the light. They don’t know its ways, nor stay in its paths.
Andre hører til Lysets Fjender, de kender ikke hans Veje og holder sig ej på hans Stier:
14 The murderer rises with the light. He kills the poor and needy. In the night he is like a thief.
Før det lysner, står Morderen op, han myrder arm og fattig; om Natten sniger Tyven sig om;
15 The eye also of the adulterer waits for the twilight, saying, ‘No eye will see me.’ He disguises his face.
Horkarlens Øje lurer på Skumring, han tænker: "Intet Øje kan se mig!" og skjuler sit Ansigt under en Maske.
16 In the dark they dig through houses. They shut themselves up in the daytime. They don’t know the light.
I Mørke bryder de ind i Huse, de lukker sig inde om Dagen, thi ingen af dem vil vide af Lys.
17 For the morning is to all of them like thick darkness, for they know the terrors of the thick darkness.
For dem er Mørket Morgen, thide er kendt med Mørkets Rædsler.
18 “They are foam on the surface of the waters. Their portion is cursed in the earth. They don’t turn into the way of the vineyards.
Over Vandfladen jages han hen, hans Arvelod i Landet forbandes, han færdes ikke på Vejen til Vingården.
Som Tørke og Hede tager Snevand, så Dødsriget dem, der har syndet. (Sheol h7585)
20 The womb will forget him. The worm will feed sweetly on him. He will be no more remembered. Unrighteousness will be broken as a tree.
Han er glemt på sin Hjemstavns Torv, hans Storhed kommes ej mer i Hu, Uretten knækkes som Træet.
21 He devours the barren who don’t bear. He shows no kindness to the widow.
Han var ond mod den golde, der ikke fødte, mod Enken gjorde han ikke vel;
22 Yet God preserves the mighty by his power. He rises up who has no assurance of life.
dem, det gik skævt, rev han bort i sin Vælde. Han står op og er ikke tryg på sit Liv,
23 God gives them security, and they rest in it. His eyes are on their ways.
han styrtes uden Håb og Støtte, og på hans Veje er idel Nød.
24 They are exalted; yet a little while, and they are gone. Yes, they are brought low, they are taken out of the way as all others, and are cut off as the tops of the ears of grain.
Hans Storhed er stakket, så er han ej mer, han bøjes og skrumper ind som Melde og skæres af som Aksenes Top.
25 If it isn’t so now, who will prove me a liar, and make my speech worth nothing?”
Og hvis ikke - hvo gør mig til Løgner, hvo gør mine Ord til intet?
