Job 4
1 Så tog Temaniten Elifaz til Orde og sagde:
And Eliphaz the Temanite answers and says:
2 Ærgrer det dig, om man taler til dig? Men hvem kan her være tavs?
“Has one tried a word with you? You are weary! And who is able to keep in words?
3 Du har selv talt mange til Rette og styrket de slappe Hænder,
Behold, you have instructed many, And feeble hands you make strong.
4 dine Ord holdt den segnende oppe, vaklende Knæ gav du Kraft.
Your words raise up the stumbling one, And you strengthen bowing knees.
5 Men nu det gælder dig selv, så taber du Modet, nu det rammer dig selv, er du slaget af Skræk!
But now, it comes to you, And you are weary; It strikes to you, and you are troubled.
6 Er ikke din Gudsfrygt din Tillid, din fromme Færd dit Håb?
Is your reverence not your confidence? Your hope—the perfection of your ways?
7 Tænk efter! Hvem gik uskyldig til Grunde, hvor gik retsindige under?
Now remember, Who, being innocent, has perished? And where have the upright been cut off?
8 Men det har jeg set: Hvo Uret pløjer og sår Fortræd, de høster det selv.
As I have seen—plowers of iniquity, And sowers of misery, reap it!
9 For Guds Ånd går de til Grunde, for hans Vredes Pust går de til.
From the breath of God they perish, And from the spirit of His anger [are] consumed.
10 Løvens Brøl og Vilddyrets Glam Ungløvernes Tænder slås ud;
The roaring of a lion, And the voice of a fierce lion, And teeth of young lions have been broken.
11 Løven omkommer af Mangel på Rov, og Løveungerne spredes.
An old lion is perishing without prey, And the whelps of the lioness separate.
12 Der sneg sig til mig et Ord mit Øre opfanged dets Hvisken
And a thing is secretly brought to me, And my ear receives a little of it.
13 i Nattesynernes Tanker, da Dvale sank over Mennesker;
In thoughts from visions of the night, In the falling of deep sleep on men,
14 Angst og Skælven kom over mig, alle mine Ledemod skjalv;
Fear has met me, and trembling, And the multitude of my bones caused to fear.
15 et Pust strøg over mit Ansigt, Hårene rejste sig på min Krop.
And a spirit passes before my face, The hair of my flesh stands up;
16 Så stod det stille! Jeg sansed ikke, hvordan det så ud; en Skikkelse stod for mit Øje, jeg hørte en hviskende Stemme:
It stands, and I do not discern its aspect, A likeness [is] before my eyes, Silence! And I hear a voice:
17 "Har et Menneske Ret for Gud, mon en Mand er ren for sin Skaber?
Is mortal man more righteous than God? Is a man cleaner than his Maker?
18 End ikke sine Tjenere tror han, hos sine Engle finder han Fejl,
Behold, He puts no credence in His servants, Nor sets praise in His messengers.
19 endsige hos dem, der bor i en Hytte af Ler og har deres Grundvold i Støvet!
Also—the inhabitants of houses of clay (Whose foundation [is] in the dust, They bruise them before a moth).
20 De knuses ligesom Møl, imellem Morgen og Aften, de sønderslås uden at ænses, for evigt går de til Grunde.
From morning to evening are beaten down, Without any regarding, they perish forever.
21 Rives ej deres Teltreb ud? De dør, men ikke i Visdom."
Has their excellence not been removed with them? They die, and not in wisdom!”
