Thaburi 2
1 Nĩ kĩĩ gĩtũmaga ndũrĩrĩ iciirĩre gwĩka ũũru na andũ mathugunde maũndũ ma tũhũ?
Why have nations tumultuously assembled? And do peoples meditate vanity?
2 Athamaki a thĩ nĩmatuĩte itua, na aathani magacookania ndundu nĩguo mookĩrĩre Jehova, na mookĩrĩre Ũrĩa wake Mũitĩrĩrie Maguta.
Station themselves do kings of the earth, And princes have been united together, Against Jehovah, and against His Messiah:
3 Moigaga atĩrĩ, “Nĩtwĩohorei mĩnyororo yao, na mabĩngũ mao tũmate matweherere.”
'Let us draw off Their cords, And cast from us Their thick bands.'
4 Ũrĩa ũikarĩire gĩtĩ kĩa ũnene kũu igũrũ no gũtheka aratheka; We Mwathani-rĩ, nĩkũnyũrũria aramanyũrũria.
He who is sitting in the heavens doth laugh, The Lord doth mock at them.
5 Ningĩ agacooka akamakũũma arakarĩte, na akamekĩra guoya mũnene angʼũrĩkĩte akameera atĩrĩ,
Then doth He speak unto them in His anger, And in His wrath He doth trouble them:
6 “Niĩ nĩ niĩ njigĩte Mũthamaki wakwa kũu Zayuni, kĩrĩma-inĩ gĩakwa kĩrĩa kĩamũre.”
'And I — I have anointed My King, Upon Zion — My holy hill.'
7 Niĩ nĩngwanĩrĩra itua rĩa Jehova: Jehova aanjĩĩrire atĩrĩ, “Wee nĩwe Mũrũ wakwa, ũmũthĩ nĩndatuĩka thoguo.
I declare concerning a statute: Jehovah said unto me, 'My Son Thou [art], I to-day have brought thee forth.
8 Hooya niĩ, na nĩngũkũhe ndũrĩrĩ ituĩke igai rĩaku, nacio ituri cia thĩ ituĩke ciaku kĩũmbe.
Ask of Me and I give nations — thy inheritance, And thy possession — the ends of earth.
9 Nĩũgaciunanga na njũgũma ya kĩgera ya ũthamaki; ũgaacihehenja ihaane ta tũcunjĩ twa nyũngũ ya rĩũmba.”
Thou dost rule them with a sceptre of iron, As a vessel of a potter Thou dost crush them.'
10 Nĩ ũndũ ũcio, inyuĩ athamaki ta kĩũhĩgeei, inyuĩ aathani a thĩ mũtaarĩke.
And now, O kings, act wisely, Be instructed, O judges of earth,
11 Tungatĩrai Jehova mũkĩmwĩtigagĩra, na mũkene o mũkĩinainaga.
Serve ye Jehovah with fear, And rejoice with trembling.
12 Mumunyai Mũriũ, ndakae kũrakara, na inyuĩ mũniinĩrwo njĩra-inĩ, nĩgũkorwo mangʼũrĩ make maahota kũrĩrĩmbũka o rĩmwe. Kũrathimwo-rĩ, nĩ arĩa othe moragĩra harĩ we.
Kiss the Chosen One, lest He be angry, And ye lose the way, When His anger burneth but a little, O the happiness of all trusting in Him!
