Job 27
1 And Job addeth to lift up his simile, and saith: —
Ma Job gakwara nʼihu nʼokwu ya sị:
2 God liveth! He turned aside my judgment, And the Mighty — He made my soul bitter.
“Nʼezie, dịka Chineke na-adị ndụ, onye jụrụ ikpere m ikpe ziri ezi, Onye pụrụ ime ihe niile, onye mere ka m hụ ihe ilu nke mkpụrụobi.
3 For all the while my breath [is] in me, And the spirit of God in my nostrils.
Ogologo mgbe m nwere ndụ nʼime m, mgbe iku ume Chineke dịkwa nʼimi m,
4 My lips do not speak perverseness, And my tongue doth not utter deceit.
egbugbere ọnụ m agaghị ekwu ihe ọjọọ, ire m agakwaghị ekwu okwu aghụghọ.
5 Pollution to me — if I justify you, Till I expire I turn not aside mine integrity from me.
Agaghị m ekwenye na ihe unu kwuru ziri ezi; ruo mgbe m ga-anwụ, agaghị m agọnarị izuoke m.
6 On my righteousness I have laid hold, And I do not let it go, My heart doth not reproach me while I live.
Aga m ejigidesi ezi omume m aka ike, agaghị m ahapụ ya; o nwekwaghị mgbe obi m ga-ata m ụta ogologo ụbọchị niile nke ndụ m.
7 As the wicked is my enemy, And my withstander as the perverse.
“Ka ndị iro m dịrị ka ndị ajọ omume, ka ndị na-ebili imegide m dịrị ka ndị na-emebi iwu.
8 For what [is] the hope of the profane, When He doth cut off? When God doth cast off his soul?
Nʼihi nke a, gịnị bụ olileanya onye na-amaghị Chineke nwere mgbe e bipụrụ ya, mgbe Chineke wepụrụ ndụ ya?
9 His cry doth God hear, When distress cometh on him?
Chineke ọ na-anụ ịkwa akwa ya mgbe nsogbu dakwasịrị ya?
10 On the Mighty doth he delight himself? Call God at all times?
Ọ ga-achọta ihe ụtọ nʼime Onye pụrụ ime ihe niile? Ọ ga-akpọku Chineke mgbe niile?
11 I shew you by the hand of God, That which [is] with the Mighty I hide not.
“Aga m akụziri unu maka ike nke Chineke; agaghị m ezo ihe banyere ụzọ Onye pụrụ ime ihe niile.
12 Lo, ye — all of you — have seen, And why [is] this — ye are altogether vain?
Unu onwe unu ahụla ihe ndị a, gịnị mere unu ji ekwu okwu ndị a na-enweghị isi?
13 This [is] the portion of wicked man with God, And the inheritance of terrible ones From the Mighty they receive.
“Nke a bụ oke Chineke na-ekenye ndị ajọ omume, nke a bụkwa ihe nketa nke onye ahụ na-adịghị eme ebere na-anata site nʼaka Onye pụrụ ime ihe niile.
14 If his sons multiply — for them [is] a sword. And his offspring [are] not satisfied [with] bread.
Nʼagbanyeghị ọnụọgụgụ ụmụ ya, oke ha bụ mma agha; ụmụ ya agaghị enwe ihe oriri ga-ezuru ha.
15 His remnant in death are buried, And his widows do not weep.
Ọrịa na-efe efe ga-egbu ndị ya fọrọ ndụ; ọzọ, ụmụ nwanyị ha hapụrụ nwụọ agaghị akwa akwa nʼihi ha.
16 If he heap up as dust silver, And as clay prepare clothing,
Ọ bụrụ na ọ kpakọta ọlaọcha dịka uzuzu, ma tụkọtakwa uwe dịka aja ụrọ,
17 He prepareth — and the righteous putteth [it] on, And the silver the innocent doth apportion.
ihe ndị ọ kpakọtara bụ onye ezi omume ga-eyi ha, ndị aka ha dị ọcha ga-ekekwa ọlaọcha ya.
18 He hath built as a moth his house, And as a booth a watchman hath made.
Ụlọ o wuru dị ka ụlọ nla, dịkwa ka ụlọ ntu nke onye nche wuru.
19 Rich he lieth down, and he is not gathered, His eyes he hath opened, and he is not.
Ọ na-edina ala dịka ọgaranya ma ọ gaghị edinakwa dịka ọgaranya ọzọ; mgbe ọ saghere anya ya abụọ, ihe niile efuola.
20 Overtake him as waters do terrors, By night stolen him away hath a whirlwind.
Oke egwu na-adakwasị ya dịka idee mmiri; oke ebili mmiri na-ebufu ya nʼabalị.
21 Take him up doth an east wind, and he goeth, And it frighteneth him from his place,
Ifufe si nʼọwụwa anyanwụ na-ebufu ya, agaghị ahụkwa ya anya ọzọ; ọ na-azachapụ ya site nʼọnọdụ ya.
22 And it casteth at him, and doth not spare, From its hand he diligently fleeth.
Ọ na-atụfu ya na-enweghị ebere mgbe ọ na-eme ngwangwa ịgbapụ site nʼike ya.
23 It clappeth at him its hands, And it hisseth at him from his place.
Ọ na-akụkọta aka ya nʼịkwa emo, were ịma ọsụ wezuga ya nʼọnọdụ ya.”
