Job 30
1 Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
2 Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
3 tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4 og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.
5 Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve råbes der efter dem.
They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,
6 De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.
8 en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.
9 Men nu er jeg Hånsang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
“Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
10 de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.
12 Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slår de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig
On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.
13 min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.
14 de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
15 Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
16 Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
“Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
18 Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
19 Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du står der og ænser mig ikke;
I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.
21 grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Hånd.
You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.
22 Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.
23 thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.
24 Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Hånden ud og råber om Hjælp, når han går under?
“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
25 Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det hårdt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
26 Jeg biede på Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg håbed på Lys, men Mørke kom;
When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.
27 ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.
28 trøstesløs går jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og råber;
I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
29 Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.
30 Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.
31 min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Gråd!
Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
