Job 16
1 Saa tog Job til Orde og svarede:
Bvt Iob answered, and said,
2 Nok har jeg hørt af sligt, besværlige Trøstere er I til Hobe!
I haue oft times heard such things: miserable comforters are ye all.
3 Faar Mundsvejret aldrig Ende? Hvad ægged dig dog til at svare?
Shall there be none ende of wordes of winde? or what maketh thee bold so to answere?
4 Ogsaa jeg kunde tale som I, hvis I kun var i mit Sted, føje mine Ord imod jer og ryste paa Hovedet ad jer,
I could also speake as yee doe: (but woulde God your soule were in my soules stead) I could keepe you company in speaking, and could shake mine head at you,
5 styrke jer med min Mund, ej spare paa ynksomme Ord!
But I woulde strengthen you with my mouth, and the comfort of my lips should asswage your sorowe.
6 Taler jeg, mildnes min Smerte ikke og om jeg tier, hvad Lindring faar jeg?
Though I speake, my sorow can not be asswaged: though I cease, what release haue I?
7 Dog nu har han udtømt min Kraft, du har ødelagt hele min Kreds;
But now hee maketh mee wearie: O God, thou hast made all my congregation desolate,
8 at du greb mig, gælder som Vidnesbyrd mod mig, min Magerhed vidner imod mig.
And hast made me full of wrinkles which is a witnesse thereof, and my leannes ryseth vp in me, testifying the same in my face.
9 Hans Vrede river og slider i mig, han skærer Tænder imod mig. Fjenderne hvæsser Blikket imod mig,
His wrath hath torne me, and hee hateth me, and gnasheth vpon mee with his teeth: mine enemie hath sharpened his eyes against me.
10 de opspiler Gabet imod mig, slaar mig med Haan paa Kind og flokkes til Hobe omkring mig;
They haue opened their mouthes vpon me, and smitten me on the cheeke in reproch; they gather themselues together against me.
11 Gud gav mig hen i Niddingers Vold, i gudløses Hænder kasted han mig.
God hath deliuered me to the vniust, and hath made mee to turne out of the way by the hands of the wicked.
12 Jeg leved i Fred, saa knuste han mig, han greb mig i Nakken og sønderslog mig; han stilled mig op som Skive,
I was in welth, but he hath brought me to nought: he hath taken me by the necke, and beaten me, and set me as a marke for himselfe.
13 hans Pile flyver omkring mig, han borer i Nyrerne uden Skaansel, udgyder min Galde paa Jorden;
His archers compasse mee rounde about: he cutteth my reines, and doth not spare, and powreth my gall vpon the ground.
14 Revne paa Revne slaar han mig, stormer som Kriger imod mig.
He hath broken me with one breaking vpon another, and runneth vpon me like a gyant.
15 Over min Hud har jeg syet Sæk og boret mit Horn i Støvet;
I haue sowed a sackcloth vpon my skinne, and haue abased mine horne vnto the dust.
16 mit Ansigt er rødt af Graad, mine Øjenlaag hyllet i Mørke,
My face is withered with weeping, and the shadow of death is vpon mine eyes,
17 skønt der ikke er Vold i min Haand, og skønt min Bøn er ren!
Though there be no wickednesse in mine hands, and my prayer be pure.
18 Dølg ikke, Jord, mit Blod, mit Skrig komme ikke til Hvile!
O earth, couer not thou my blood, and let my crying finde no place.
19 Alt nu er mit Vidne i Himlen, min Talsmand er i det høje;
For lo, now my witnesse is in the heauen, and my record is on hie.
20 gid min Ven lod sig finde! Mit Øje vender sig med Taarer til Gud,
My friends speake eloquently against me: but mine eye powreth out teares vnto God.
21 at han skifter Ret mellem Manden og Gud, mellem Mennesket og hans Ven!
Oh that a man might pleade with God, as man with his neighbour!
22 Thi talte er de kommende Aar, jeg skal ud paa en Færd, jeg ej vender hjem fra.
For the yeeres accounted come, and I shall go the way, whence I shall not returne.
