Isaiah 47

1 Come down, and sit on the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, Sit on the earth, there is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans, For no more do they cry to thee, 'O tender and delicate one.'

Stig ned, sid i Støvet, du Jomfru, Babels Datter, sid uden Trone paa Jorden, Kaldæernes Datter! Thi ikke mer skal du kaldes den fine, forvænte!

2 Take millstones, and grind flour, Remove thy veil, draw up the skirt, Uncover the leg, pass over the floods.

Tag fat paa Kværnen, mal Mel, læg Sløret bort, løft Slæbet, blot dine Ben og vad over Strømmen!

3 Revealed is thy nakedness, yea, seen is thy reproach, Vengeance I take, and I meet not a man.

Din Blusel skal blottes, din Skam skal ses. Hævn tager jeg uden Skaansel, siger vor Genløser,

4 Our redeemer [is] Jehovah of Hosts, His name [is] the Holy One of Israel.

hvis Navn er Hærskarers HERRE, Israels Hellige.

5 Sit silent, and go into darkness, O daughter of the Chaldeans, For no more do they cry to thee, 'Mistress of kingdoms.'

Sid tavs og gaa ind i Mørke, Kaldæernes Datter, thi ikke mer skal du kaldes Rigernes Dronning!

6 I have been wroth against My people, I have polluted Mine inheritance And I give them into thy hand, Thou hast not appointed for them mercies, On the aged thou hast made thy yoke very heavy,

Jeg vrededes paa mit Folk, vanæred min Arv, gav dem hen i din Haand; du viste dem ingen Medynk, du lagde dit tunge Aag paa Oldingens Nakke.

7 And thou sayest, 'To the age I am mistress,' While thou hast not laid these things to thy heart, Thou hast not remembered the latter end of it.

Du sagde: »Jeg bliver evindelig Evigheds Dronning.« Du tog dig det ikke til Hjerte, brød dig ikke om Enden.

8 And now, hear this, O luxurious one, Who is sitting confidently — Who is saying in her heart, 'I [am], and none else, I sit not a widow, nor know bereavement.'

Saa hør nu, du yppige, du, som sidder i Tryghed, som siger i Hjertet: »Kun jeg, og ellers ingen! Aldrig skal jeg sidde Enke, ej kende til Barnløshed.«

9 And come in to thee do these two things, In a moment, in one day, childlessness and widowhood, According to their perfection they have come upon thee, In the multitude of thy sorceries, In the exceeding might of thy charms.

Begge Dele skal ramme dig brat samme Dag, Barnløshed og Enkestand ramme dig i fuldeste Maal, dine mange Trylleord, din megen Trolddom til Trods,

10 And thou art confident in thy wickedness, Thou hast said, 'There is none seeing me,' Thy wisdom and thy knowledge, It is turning thee back, And thou sayest in thy heart, 'I [am], and none else.'

skønt du tryg i din Ondskab sagde: »ingen ser mig.« Din Visdom og Viden var det, der ledte dig vild, saa du sagde i Hjertet: »Kun jeg, og ellers ingen!«

11 And come in on thee hath evil, Thou knowest not its rising, And fall on thee doth mischief, Thou art not able to pacify it, And come on thee suddenly doth desolation, Thou knowest not.

Dig rammer et Onde, du ikke kan købe bort, over dig falder et Vanheld, du ikke kan sone, Undergang rammer dig brat, naar mindst du aner det.

12 Stand, I pray thee, in thy charms, And in the multitude of thy sorceries, In which thou hast laboured from thy youth, It may be thou art able to profit, It may be thou dost terrify!

Kom med din Trolddom og med dine mange Trylleord, med hvilke du umaged dig fra din Ungdom, om du kan bøde derpaa og skræmme det bort.

13 Thou hast been wearied in the multitude of thy counsels, Stand up, I pray thee, and save thee, Let the charmers of the heavens, Those looking on the stars, Those teaching concerning the months, From those things that come on thee!

Med Raadgiverhoben sled du dig træt, lad dem møde, lad Himmelgranskerne frelse dig, Stjernekigerne, som Maaned for Maaned kundgør, hvad dig skal ske!

14 Lo, they have been as stubble! Fire hath burned them, They deliver not themselves from the power of the flame, There is not a coal to warm them, a light to sit before it.

Se, de er blevet som Straa, de fortæres af Ild, de frelser ikke deres Liv fra Luens Magt. »Ingen Glød til Varme, ej Baal at sidde ved!«

15 So have they been to thee with whom thou hast laboured, Thy merchants from thy youth, Each to his passage they have wandered, Thy saviour is not!

Sligt faar du af dem, du umaged dig med, dine Troldmænd fra Ungdommen af; de raver hver til sin Side, dig frelser ingen.