Psalms 12

1 For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, LORD; for the godly man ceases. For the faithful fail from among the children of men.

Pou chèf sanba yo. Sou wityèm lan. Se yon sòm David. vin sove nou non, Seyè! Pa gen moun ki renmen ou ankò! Pa gen moun sou latè k'ap sèvi ou ak tout kè yo ankò!

2 Everyone lies to his neighbor. They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

Yonn ap bay lòt manti. Yonn ap flate lòt, yonn ap twonpe lòt.

3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that boasts,

Seyè, fèmen bouch bann flatè sa yo, bann moun sa yo k'ap vante tèt yo.

4 who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail. Our lips are our own. Who is lord over us?”

Y'ap plede di: -Nou pale jan nou vle. Bouch nou rele n' pa nou. Ki moun ki pou pase nou lòd?

5 “Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise,” says the LORD; “I will set him in safety from those who malign him.”

Y'ap peze malere yo. Pòv yo ap soufri, y'ap plenyen. Men, Seyè a di: M'ap vini koulye a. M'ap ba yo sekou y'ap tann lan.

6 The LORD’s words are flawless words, as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

Pawòl Seyè a se bon pawòl. Li tankou lajan yo pase sèt fwa nan dife pou wè si li bon.

7 You will keep them, LORD. You will preserve them from this generation forever.

Ou menm, Seyè, w'a toujou defann nou! Pa kite moun sa yo fè nou anyen!

8 The wicked walk on every side, when what is vile is exalted among the sons of men.

Mechan yo ap pwonmennen sou moun toupatou: se tout moun k'ap fè lwanj move bagay y'ap fè yo.