Joel 1
1 The Lord’s message that came to Joel, son of Pethuel.
Herrens Ord, som kom til Joel, Pethuels Søn.
2 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?
Hører dette, I gamle! og laaner Øren, alle Landets Indbyggere! mon saadant er sket i eders Dage eller i eders Fædres Dage?
3 Recount it to your children; let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the generation that follows.
Fortæller eders Børn derom, og eders Børn fortælle deres Børn og deres Børn den næste Slægt!
4 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.
Hvad Høskrækken lod overblive, aad Græshoppen, og hvad Græshoppen lod overblive, aad Oldenborren, og hvad Oldenborren lod overblive, aad Kornormen.
5 Awake, drunkards, and weep, and wail, all drinkers of wine; the new wine is cut off from your mouth.
Vaagner op, I drukne, og græder! og hyler, alle I, som drikke Vin, over Mosten! thi den er reven bort fra eders Mund.
6 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.
Thi et Folk er draget op over mit Land, stærkt og ikke til at tælle; det har Tænder som Løvers Tænder og Kindtænder som Løvindens.
7 It has laid waste my vines, and barked my fig tree; it has peeled and cast it away, bleached are the branches.
Det har ødelagt mit Vintræ og knækket mit Figentræ; det har gjort det aldeles bart og kastet det ned, Rankerne derpaa ere blevne hvide.
8 Wail as a bride, clad in sack-cloth, for the husband of her youth.
Hyl som en Jomfru, der har iført sig Sæk for sin Ungdoms Brudgom!
9 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.
Madoffer og Drikoffer er revet bort for Herrens Hus, Præsterne, Herrens Tjenere, sørge.
10 The fields are blasted, the land is in mourning, for ruined is the corn, the new wine fails and the oil is dried up.
Marken er ødelagt, Jordbunden sørger; thi Kornet er ødelagt, Mosten er fortørret, Olien er sygnet hen.
11 Be dismayed, farmers; wail, vine-dressers. For the wheat and the barley; for the harvest is lost from the fields.
Agerdyrkerne ere beskæmmede, Vingaardsmændene hyle over Hveden og over Bygget; thi Høsten paa Marken er gaaet tabt.
12 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.
Vintræet er fortørret, og Figentræet er sygnet hen; Granatæbletræet, selv Palmetræet og Æbletræet, alle Træer paa Marken ere fortørrede; ja, Fryd er skamfuld vegen bort fra Menneskenes Børn.
13 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.
Omgjorder eder og sørger, I Præster! hyler, I Altertjenere! gaar ind, tilbringer Natten i Sørgedragt, I min Guds Tjenere! thi Madoffer og Drikoffer er forment eders Guds Hus.
14 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:
Helliger en Faste, udraaber en Forsamling, samler de Ældste, alle Landets Indbyggere til Herrens eders Guds Hus, og raaber til Herren!
15 Alas for the day! Near at hand is the day of the Lord, and as destruction from the Almighty it comes.
Ve, den Dag! thi Herrens Dag er nær og skal komme som en Ødelæggelse fra den Almægtige.
16 Is not food cut off from before us, gladness and joy from the house of our God?
Er ikke Føden reven bort for vore Øjne, Glæde og Fryd fra vor Guds Hus?
17 The grains shrivel under their hoes, the storehouses are desolate, the barns broken down, for the corn is withered.
Sædekornene ere raadnede under Jordskorpen, Forraadshusene ligge øde, Laderne ere nedbrudte, fordi Kornet er blevet til Skamme.
18 How the herds of cattle bellow in distress, for they have no pasture! The flocks of sheep are forlorn.
Hvor sukker dog Kvæget! Øksnenes Hjorde ere forvildede, thi de have ingen Græsgang, ogsaa Faarehjordene maa bøde.
19 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.
Til dig, Herre! vil jeg raabe; thi en Ild har fortæret Græsgangene i Ørken, og en Lue har svedet alle Træerne paa Marken.
20 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.
Ogsaa Dyrene paa Marken se sukkende op til dig; thi Vandstrømmene ere udtørrede, og en Ild har fortæret Græsgangene i Ørken.
