Jobs 30
1 Men no er eg til spott for deim som yngre er av år enn eg; eg deira feder ikkje fann verdige plass hjå gjætarhunden.
But now those who are younger than I make sport of me; those whose fathers I would not have put with the dogs of my flocks.
2 Magtlause er og deira hender, og deira saft og kraft er burte;
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me? all force is gone from them.
3 Dei magre er av naud og svolt, dei gneg i turre øydemarki som alt i går var reine audni,
They are wasted for need of food, biting the dry earth; their only hope of life is in the waste land.
4 og plukkar melde millom kjørri og hev til føda einerot.
They are pulling off the salt leaves from the brushwood, and making a meal of roots.
5 Frå folket vert dei jaga burt, fær tjuvemann slengt etter seg.
They are sent out from among their townsmen, men are crying after them as thieves
6 Dei gøymer seg i fæle gil, i holor uti jord og fjell;
They have to get a resting-place in the hollows of the valleys, in holes of the earth and rocks.
7 og millom buskor skrålar dei og samlast under netlerunnar;
They make noises like asses among the brushwood; they get together under the thorns.
8 ei ætt av dårar og namnlause som ein helst piskar ut or landet.
They are sons of shame, and of men without a name, who have been forced out of the land.
9 No er eg slengjestev for deim, eit ordtak hev for deim eg vorte.
And now I have become their song, and I am a word of shame to them.
10 Dei styggjest ved meg, held seg burte og sparer ei å sputta på meg.
I am disgusting to them; they keep away from me, and put marks of shame on me.
11 Utan all blygd dei krenkjer meg, hiv av kvart band framfor mi åsyn.
For he has made loose the cord of my bow, and put me to shame; he has sent down my flag to the earth before me.
12 Eit utjo reiser seg til høgre, dei spenner mine føter burt, og legg ulukke-vegar mot meg.
The lines of his men of war put themselves in order, and make high their ways of destruction against me:
13 Og stigen min den bryt dei upp og hjelper til med mi ulukka, dei som er hjelpelause sjølv.
They have made waste my roads, with a view to my destruction; his bowmen come round about me;
14 Som gjenom vide murbrot kjem dei, velter seg fram med bråk og brak.
As through a wide broken place in the wall they come on, I am overturned by the shock of their attack.
15 Imot meg vender rædslor seg, mi æra elter dei som stormen, mi velferd kvarv som lette sky.
Fears have come on me; my hope is gone like the wind, and my well-being like a cloud.
16 No jamrar seg mi sjæl i meg; usæle dagar held meg fast.
But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
17 Natti gneg mine knokar av meg, min verk, mi pina aldri søv.
The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.
18 Ved allmagt vert min klædnad vanstelt, heng tett som skjortekragen kring meg.
With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.
19 Han kasta meg i skarnet ned; og eg ser ut som mold og oska.
Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
20 Eg skrik til deg, du svarar ikkje, eg stend der, og du stirer på meg.
You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.
21 Hard hev du vorte imot meg, du stri’r mot meg med veldug hand.
You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.
22 Du let meg fara burt i stormen, du let meg tynast i hans brus.
Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.
23 Eg veit du fører meg til dauden, der alt som liver samlast lyt.
For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.
24 Kven kavar ikkje når han søkk? Kven ropar ikkje ut i fåren?
Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?
25 Gret eg’kje sjølv med den fortrykte, og syrgde yver fatigmann?
Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?
26 Eg vona godt, men det kom vondt, eg venta ljos, men myrker kom.
For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.
27 Det kokar allstødt i mitt indre, ulukkedagen møter meg.
My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.
28 Svart gjeng eg kring, men ikkje solbrend, eg ris i flokken, skrik um hjelp.
I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.
29 Bror åt sjakalar hev eg vorte, til strussar eg ein frende er.
I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.
30 Mi hud er svart og flaknar av; det brenn i mine bein av hite.
My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.
31 Min cither hev eg bytt i sorg, og fløyta mi med gråtar-mål.
And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.
