Joel 1
1 Herrens Ord, som kom til Joel, Petuels søn.
The Lord’s message that came to Joel, son of Pethuel.
2 Hør dette, I Ældste, lån Øre, alle, som bor i Landet! Er sligt mon sket i eders eller eders Fædres Dage?
Hear this, elders, pay attention, all inhabitants of the land. Has anything like this happened in your days, or in the days of your ancestors?
3 I skal fortælle det til eders Børn, og de igen til deres, og deles til næste Slægt.
Recount it to your children; let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the generation that follows.
4 Græshoppen åd, hvad Gnaveren levned, Springeren åd, hvad Græshoppen levned, Æderen åd, hvad Springeren levned.
That which the cutting locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten, that which the swarming locust has left, the hopping locust has eaten, and that which the hopping locust has left, the destroying locust has eaten.
5 Vågn op, I drukne, og græd; enhver, som drikker Vin, skal jamre over Most, der gik tabt for eders. Mund.
Awake, drunkards, and weep, and wail, all drinkers of wine; the new wine is cut off from your mouth.
6 Thi et Folk drog op mod mit Land, vældigt og uden Tal; dets Tænder er Løvetænder, det har Kindtænder som en Løvinde.
For a nation has come up on my land, powerful, and numberless; its teeth are the teeth of a lion, and its jaw-teeth are like those of a lioness.
7 Det lagde min Vinstok øde, knækked mit Figentræ, afbarked og hærgede det; dets Grene stritter hvide.
It has laid waste my vines, and barked my fig tree; it has peeled and cast it away, bleached are the branches.
8 Klag som sørgeklædt Jomfru over sin Ungdoms Brudgom!
Wail as a bride, clad in sack-cloth, for the husband of her youth.
9 Afgrødeoffer og Drikoffer gik tabt for HERRENs Hus; Præsterne, HERRENs Tjenere sørger.
Cut off are the cereal and drink-offerings from the house of the Lord; in mourning are the priests, who minister at the Lord’s altar.
10 Marken er ødelagt, Jorden sørger; thi Kornet er ødelagt, Mosten slog fejl og Olien hentørres.
The fields are blasted, the land is in mourning, for ruined is the corn, the new wine fails and the oil is dried up.
11 Bønder skuffes og Vingårdsmænd jamrer både over Hveden og Byggen; thi Markens Høst gik tabt;
Be dismayed, farmers; wail, vine-dressers. For the wheat and the barley; for the harvest is lost from the fields.
12 fejl slog Vinstokken, Figentræet tørres; Granatæble, Palme og æbletræ, hvert Markens Træ tørres hen. Ja, med Skam veg Glæde fra Menneskens Børn:
The vine fails to bear fruit, and the fig tree is drooping; the pomegranate, palm, and apple, all the trees of the field are dried up. The people’s joy withers.
13 Sørg, I Præster i Sæk, I AIterets Tjenere, jamrer! Gå ind og bær Sæk i Nat, I, som tjener min Gud! Thi Afgrødeoffer og Drikofer unddrages eders Guds Hus.
Put on sackcloth, and beat your breasts, priests; wail, ministers of the altar; come, lie all night in sack-cloth, ministers of God; for cereal-offering and drink-offering are cut off from the house of your God.
14 Helliger en Faste, udråb festlig Samling, I Ældste, kald alle, som bor i Landet, sammen til HERREN eders Guds Hus og råb så til HERREN!
Sanctify a fast, summon an assembly, gather the elders and all the inhabitants of the land into the house of the Lord your God, cry to the Lord:
15 Ak, hvilken Dag! Thi nær er HERRENs Dag, den kommer som Vold fra den Vældige.
Alas for the day! Near at hand is the day of the Lord, and as destruction from the Almighty it comes.
16 Så vi ej Føden gå tabt, vor Guds Hus tømt for Glæde og Jubel?
Is not food cut off from before us, gladness and joy from the house of our God?
17 Sæden skrumper ind i den klumpede Jord; Lader er nedbrudt, Forrådshuse jævnet, thi Kornet er vissent.
The grains shrivel under their hoes, the storehouses are desolate, the barns broken down, for the corn is withered.
18 Hvor Kvæget dog stønner! Oksernes Hjorde er skræmte, fordi de ikke har Græs; selv Småkvægets Hjorde lider.
How the herds of cattle bellow in distress, for they have no pasture! The flocks of sheep are forlorn.
19 Jeg råber til dig, o HERRE; thi Ild har fortæret Ørkenens Græsning, og Luen afsved hvert Markens Træ;
To you, the Lord, I cry. For fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness, and flame has scorched all the trees of the field.
20 til dig skriger selv Markens Dyr, thi Bækkenes Lejer er tørre, og Ild har fortæret Ørkenens Græsning.
The wild animals also look up to you longingly, for the water-courses are dried up, and fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness.
