Job 3
1 Derefter oplod Job sin Mund og forbandede sin Dag,
After this Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day.
2 og Job tog til Orde og sagde:
And Job answered and said,
3 Bort med den Dag, jeg fødtes, den Nat, der sagde: "Se, en Dreng!"
Let the day perish in which I was born, and the night which said, There is a man-child conceived.
4 Denne Dag vorde Mørke, Gud deroppe spørge ej om den, over den stråle ej Lyset frem!
Let that day be darkness. Let not God from above seek for it, nor let the light shine upon it.
5 Mulm og Mørke løse den ind, Tåge lægge sig over den, Formørkelser skræmme den!
Let darkness and the shadow of death claim it for their own. Let a cloud dwell upon it. Let blackness come upon it.
6 Mørket tage den Nat, den høre ej hjemme blandt Årets Dage, den komme ikke i Måneders Tal!
As for that night, let thick darkness seize upon it. Let it not rejoice among the days of the year. Let it not come into the number of the months.
7 Ja, denne Nat vorde gold, der lyde ej Jubel i den!
Lo, let that night be barren. Let no joyful voice come in it.
8 De, der besværger Dage, forbande den, de, der har lært at hidse Livjatan";
Let them curse it who curse the day, who are ready to rouse up leviathan.
9 dens Morgenstjerner formørkes, den bie forgæves på Lys, den skue ej Morgenrødens Øjenlåg,
Let the stars of the twilight of it be dark. Let it look for light, but have none, nor let it behold the eyelids of the morning.
10 fordi den ej lukked mig Moderlivets Døre og skjulte Kvide for mit Blik!
Because it did not shut up the doors of my mother's womb, nor hide trouble from my eyes.
11 Hvi døde jeg ikke i Moders Liv eller udånded straks fra Moders Skød?
Why did I not die from the womb? Why did I not give up the spirit when my mother bore me?
12 Hvorfor var der Knæ til at tage imod mig, hvorfor var der Bryster at die?
Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breast, that I should suck?
13 Så havde jeg nu ligget og hvilet, så havde jeg slumret i Fred
For now I should have lain down and been quiet. I should have slept. Then I would have been at rest
14 blandt Konger og Jordens Styrere, der bygged sig Gravpaladser,
with kings and counselors of the earth, who built waste places for themselves,
15 blandt Fyrster, rige på Guld, som fyldte deres Huse med Sølv.
or with rulers who had gold, who filled their houses with silver.
16 Eller var jeg dog som et nedgravet Foster. som Børn, der ikke fik Lyset at se!
Or I should have been as a hidden untimely birth, as infants that never saw light.
17 Der larmer de gudløse ikke mer, der hviler de trætte ud,
There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest.
18 alle de fangne har Ro, de hører ej Fogedens Røst;
There the prisoners are at ease together. They do not hear the voice of the taskmaster.
19 små og store er lige der og Trællen fri for sin Herre.
The small and the great are there. And the servant is free from his master.
20 Hvi giver Gud de lidende Lys, de bittert sørgende Liv,
Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter in soul,
21 dem, som bier forgæves på Døden, graver derefter som efter Skatte,
who long for death, but it comes not, and dig for it more than for hid treasures,
22 som glæder sig til en Stenhøj, jubler, når de finder deres Grav
who rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the grave?
23 en Mand, hvis Vej er skjult, hvem Gud har stænget inde?
Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God has hedged in?
24 Thi Suk er blevet mit daglige Brød, mine Ve råb strømmer som Vand.
For my sighing comes before I eat, and my groanings are poured out like water.
25 Thi hvad jeg gruer for, rammer mig, hvad jeg bæver for, kommer over mig.
For the thing which I fear comes upon me, and that which I am afraid of comes to me.
26 Knap har jeg Fred, og knap har jeg Ro, knap har jeg Hvile, så kommer Uro!
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet, neither have I rest, but trouble comes.
