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.
Now those who are younger than I have nothing but mockery for me— these young men whose fathers I would have refused to allow to work beside the dogs of my flock.
2 Magtlause er og deira hender, og deira saft og kraft er burte;
Indeed, the strength of their fathers' hands, how could it have helped me— men in whom the strength of their mature age had perished?
3 Dei magre er av naud og svolt, dei gneg i turre øydemarki som alt i går var reine audni,
They were thin from poverty and hunger; they gnawed at the dry ground in the darkness of wilderness and desolation.
4 og plukkar melde millom kjørri og hev til føda einerot.
They plucked saltwort and bushes' leaves; the roots of the broom tree were their food.
5 Frå folket vert dei jaga burt, fær tjuvemann slengt etter seg.
They were driven out from among people who shouted after them as one would shout after a thief.
6 Dei gøymer seg i fæle gil, i holor uti jord og fjell;
So they had to live in river valleys, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 og millom buskor skrålar dei og samlast under netlerunnar;
Among the bushes they brayed like donkeys and they gathered together under the nettles.
8 ei ætt av dårar og namnlause som ein helst piskar ut or landet.
They were the sons of fools, indeed, sons of nameless people! They were driven out of the land with whips.
9 No er eg slengjestev for deim, eit ordtak hev for deim eg vorte.
But now I have become the subject of their taunting song; I have become a byword for them.
10 Dei styggjest ved meg, held seg burte og sparer ei å sputta på meg.
They abhor me and stand far off from me; they do not refrain from spitting in my face.
11 Utan all blygd dei krenkjer meg, hiv av kvart band framfor mi åsyn.
For God has unstrung the string to my bow and afflicted me, and those who taunt me cast off restraint before my face.
12 Eit utjo reiser seg til høgre, dei spenner mine føter burt, og legg ulukke-vegar mot meg.
Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they drive me away and pile up against me their siege mounds.
13 Og stigen min den bryt dei upp og hjelper til med mi ulukka, dei som er hjelpelause sjølv.
They destroy my path; they push forward disaster for me, men who have no one to hold them back.
14 Som gjenom vide murbrot kjem dei, velter seg fram med bråk og brak.
They come against me like an army through a wide hole in a city wall; in the midst of the destruction they roll themselves in on me.
15 Imot meg vender rædslor seg, mi æra elter dei som stormen, mi velferd kvarv som lette sky.
Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is driven away as if by the wind; my prosperity passes away as a cloud.
16 No jamrar seg mi sjæl i meg; usæle dagar held meg fast.
Now my life is pouring out from within me; many days of suffering have laid hold on me.
17 Natti gneg mine knokar av meg, min verk, mi pina aldri søv.
In the night my bones in me are pierced; the pains that gnaw at me take no rest.
18 Ved allmagt vert min klædnad vanstelt, heng tett som skjortekragen kring meg.
God's great force has seized my clothing; it wraps around me like the collar of my tunic.
19 Han kasta meg i skarnet ned; og eg ser ut som mold og oska.
He has thrown me into the mud; I have become like dust and ashes.
20 Eg skrik til deg, du svarar ikkje, eg stend der, og du stirer på meg.
I cry to you, God, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you merely look at me.
21 Hard hev du vorte imot meg, du stri’r mot meg med veldug hand.
You have changed and become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you persecute me.
22 Du let meg fara burt i stormen, du let meg tynast i hans brus.
You lift me up to the wind and cause it to drive me along; you throw me back and forth in a storm.
23 Eg veit du fører meg til dauden, der alt som liver samlast lyt.
For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all the living.
24 Kven kavar ikkje når han søkk? Kven ropar ikkje ut i fåren?
However, does no one reach out with his hand to beg for help when he falls? Does no one in trouble call out for help?
25 Gret eg’kje sjølv med den fortrykte, og syrgde yver fatigmann?
Did not I weep for him who was in trouble? Did I not grieve for the needy man?
26 Eg vona godt, men det kom vondt, eg venta ljos, men myrker kom.
When I hoped for good, then evil came; when I waited for light, darkness came instead.
27 Det kokar allstødt i mitt indre, ulukkedagen møter meg.
My heart is troubled and does not rest; days of affliction have come on me.
28 Svart gjeng eg kring, men ikkje solbrend, eg ris i flokken, skrik um hjelp.
I have gone about like one who was living in the dark, but not because of the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 Bror åt sjakalar hev eg vorte, til strussar eg ein frende er.
I am a brother to jackals, a companion of ostriches.
30 Mi hud er svart og flaknar av; det brenn i mine bein av hite.
My skin is black and falls away from me; my bones are burned with heat.
31 Min cither hev eg bytt i sorg, og fløyta mi med gråtar-mål.
Therefore my harp is tuned for songs of mourning, my flute for the singing of those who wail.
