Job 27
1 And Job addeth to lift up his simile, and saith: —
Nake Ayubu agĩthiĩ na mbere na mĩario yake, akiuga atĩrĩ:
2 God liveth! He turned aside my judgment, And the Mighty — He made my soul bitter.
“Ti-itherũ o ta ũrĩa Mũrungu atũũraga muoyo, o we ũnyimĩte kĩhooto, ũcio Mwene-Hinya-Wothe, ũrĩa ũtũmĩte ngĩe na ũrũrũ ngoro-inĩ-rĩ,
3 For all the while my breath [is] in me, And the spirit of God in my nostrils.
hĩndĩ ĩrĩa yothe niĩ ngũtũũra muoyo, nayo mĩhũmũ ya Ngai ĩrĩ maniũrũ-inĩ makwa,
4 My lips do not speak perverseness, And my tongue doth not utter deceit.
mĩromo yakwa ndĩkaaria maũndũ ma waganu, na rũrĩmĩ rwakwa rũtikaaria maheeni.
5 Pollution to me — if I justify you, Till I expire I turn not aside mine integrity from me.
Niĩ ndigetĩkĩra atĩ nĩ inyuĩ mũrĩ na kĩhooto; nginya rĩrĩa ngaakua, ndigakaana ũkindĩrĩku wakwa.
6 On my righteousness I have laid hold, And I do not let it go, My heart doth not reproach me while I live.
Nĩngũtũũria ũthingu wakwa na ndikaũrekia; thamiri yakwa ndĩkanjiirithia rĩrĩa rĩothe ngũtũũra muoyo.
7 As the wicked is my enemy, And my withstander as the perverse.
“Thũ ciakwa irogĩtuĩka ta arĩa aaganu, arĩa marĩ muku na niĩ marotuĩka ta arĩa matarĩ kĩhooto!
8 For what [is] the hope of the profane, When He doth cut off? When God doth cast off his soul?
Tondũ-rĩ, kĩĩrĩgĩrĩro kĩa ũrĩa ũtarĩ mwĩtigĩri Ngai gĩkĩrĩ kĩrĩkũ akua, hĩndĩ ĩrĩa Ngai ooya muoyo wake?
9 His cry doth God hear, When distress cometh on him?
Mũrungu nĩakĩiguaga gũkaya gwake rĩrĩa akorwo nĩ mĩnyamaro?
10 On the Mighty doth he delight himself? Call God at all times?
Nĩakenagĩra ũcio Mwene-Hinya-Wothe? Nĩakayagĩra Ngai mahinda mothe?
11 I shew you by the hand of God, That which [is] with the Mighty I hide not.
“Nĩngũmũruta ũhoro wĩgiĩ ũhoti wa Mũrungu; ndikũhitha njĩra cia Mwene-Hinya-Wothe.
12 Lo, ye — all of you — have seen, And why [is] this — ye are altogether vain?
Inyuothe nĩmwĩoneire maũndũ macio. Ĩkĩrĩ yakĩ mĩario ĩno ĩtarĩ kĩene?
13 This [is] the portion of wicked man with God, And the inheritance of terrible ones From the Mighty they receive.
“Ũũ nĩguo Mũrungu aathagĩrĩria arĩa aaganu, na nĩrĩo igai rĩrĩa mũndũ ũrĩa ũtarĩ tha aamũkagĩra kuuma kũrĩ Mwene-Hinya-Wothe:
14 If his sons multiply — for them [is] a sword. And his offspring [are] not satisfied [with] bread.
O na ciana ciake ciaingĩha atĩa, ciathĩrĩirio rũhiũ rwa njora; rũciaro rwake rũtikoona irio cia kũrũigana.
15 His remnant in death are buried, And his widows do not weep.
Mũthiro nĩguo ũkaaninũkia arĩa agaatiga thuutha wake, na atumia ao a ndigwa matikamarĩrĩra.
16 If he heap up as dust silver, And as clay prepare clothing,
O na angĩonganĩrĩria betha ta rũkũngũ, na agĩe na nguo nyingĩ ta hĩba cia rĩũmba,
17 He prepareth — and the righteous putteth [it] on, And the silver the innocent doth apportion.
kĩrĩa egũcookanĩrĩria gĩkehumbwo nĩ ũrĩa mũthingu, na arĩa matarĩ mahĩtia nĩo makaagayana betha yake.
18 He hath built as a moth his house, And as a booth a watchman hath made.
Nyũmba ĩrĩa aakaga no ta nyũmba ya kĩĩhuruta, ningĩ no ta gĩthũnũ gĩakĩtwo nĩ mũrangĩri.
19 Rich he lieth down, and he is not gathered, His eyes he hath opened, and he is not.
Agaakoma arĩ mũtongu, no ndagacooka gwĩka ũguo rĩngĩ; akaahingũra maitho akore gũtirĩ kĩndũ arĩ nakĩo.
20 Overtake him as waters do terrors, By night stolen him away hath a whirlwind.
Imakania imũkoragĩrĩra ta mũiyũro wa maaĩ; kĩhuhũkanio gĩkaamũhuria ũtukũ.
21 Take him up doth an east wind, and he goeth, And it frighteneth him from his place,
Rũhuho rwa mwena wa Irathĩro rũmuoyaga akabuĩria; rũmweheragia kũrĩa atũũraga.
22 And it casteth at him, and doth not spare, From its hand he diligently fleeth.
Rũmũhurutaga rũtarĩ na tha o rĩrĩa aroorĩra hinya waruo.
23 It clappeth at him its hands, And it hisseth at him from his place.
Rũhũũraga hĩ rũkamũkenerera, na rũkagamba ta nyoka rũkamũruta kũrĩa atũũraga.”
