Psalms 12

1 To the Chief Musician. On the Octave. A Melody of David. O save Yahweh, for the man of lovingkindness, is no more, for the faithful, have vanished, from among the sons of men.

Pou chèf sanba yo. Sou wityèm lan. Se yon sòm David. vin sove nou non, Seyè! Pa gen moun ki renmen ou ankò! Pa gen moun sou latè k'ap sèvi ou ak tout kè yo ankò!

2 Deception, speak they, every one with his neighbour, —with lips uttering smooth things—with a heart and a heart, do they speak.

Yonn ap bay lòt manti. Yonn ap flate lòt, yonn ap twonpe lòt.

3 May Yahweh cut off All the lips that utter smooth things, —the tongue that speaketh swelling words;

Seyè, fèmen bouch bann flatè sa yo, bann moun sa yo k'ap vante tèt yo.

4 Them who say—With our tongue, will we prevail, our lips, are our own, who is our master?

Y'ap plede di: -Nou pale jan nou vle. Bouch nou rele n' pa nou. Ki moun ki pou pase nou lòd?

5 Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say, —I will place [him] in safety—let him puff at him!

Y'ap peze malere yo. Pòv yo ap soufri, y'ap plenyen. Men, Seyè a di: M'ap vini koulye a. M'ap ba yo sekou y'ap tann lan.

6 The words of Yahweh, are words, that are pure, silver refined in a crucible of earth, purified seven times!

Pawòl Seyè a se bon pawòl. Li tankou lajan yo pase sèt fwa nan dife pou wè si li bon.

7 Thou, O Yahweh, wilt keep them, —Thou wilt guard him, from this generation unto times age-abiding.

Ou menm, Seyè, w'a toujou defann nou! Pa kite moun sa yo fè nou anyen!

8 On every side, the lawless, march about, —when worthlessness is exalted by the sons of men.

Mechan yo ap pwonmennen sou moun toupatou: se tout moun k'ap fè lwanj move bagay y'ap fè yo.