Job 7
1 Har Mennesket på Jord ej Krigerkår? Som en Daglejers er hans Dage.
Has not man his ordered time of trouble on the earth? and are not his days like the days of a servant working for payment?
2 Som Trællen, der higer efter Skygge som Daglejeren, der venter på Løn,
As a servant desiring the shades of evening, and a workman looking for his payment:
3 så fik jeg Skuffelses Måneder i Arv kvalfulde Nætter til Del.
So I have for my heritage months of pain to no purpose, and nights of weariness are given to me.
4 Når jeg lægger mig, siger jeg: "Hvornår er det Dag, af jeg kan stå op?" og når jeg står op: "Hvornår er det Kvæld?" Jeg mættes af Uro, til Dagen gryr.
When I go to my bed, I say, When will it be time to get up? but the night is long, and I am turning from side to side till morning light.
5 Mit Legeme er klædt med Orme og Skorpe, min Hud skrumper ind og væsker.
My flesh is covered with worms and dust; my skin gets hard and then is cracked again.
6 Raskere end Skyttelen flyver mine Dage, de svinder bort uden Håb.
My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
7 Kom i Hu, at mit Liv er et Pust, ej mer får mit Øje Lykke at skue!
O, keep in mind that my life is wind: my eye will never again see good.
8 Vennens Øje skal ikke se mig, dit Øje søger mig - jeg er ikke mere.
The eye of him who sees me will see me no longer: your eyes will be looking for me, but I will be gone.
A cloud comes to an end and is gone; so he who goes down into the underworld comes not up again. (Sheol h7585)
10 han vender ej atter hjem til sit Hus, hans Sted får ham aldrig at se igen.
He will not come back to his house, and his place will have no more knowledge of him.
11 Så vil jeg da ej lægge Bånd på min Mund, men tale i Åndens Kvide, sukke i bitter Sjælenød.
So I will not keep my mouth shut; I will let the words come from it in the pain of my spirit, my soul will make a bitter outcry.
12 Er jeg et Hav, eller er jeg en Drage, siden du sætter Vagt ved mig?
Am I a sea, or a sea-beast, that you put a watch over me?
13 Når jeg tænker, mit Leje skal lindre mig, Sengen lette mit Suk,
When I say, In my bed I will have comfort, there I will get rest from my disease;
14 da ængster du mig med Drømme, skræmmer mig op ved Syner,
Then you send dreams to me, and visions of fear;
15 så min Sjæl vil hellere kvæles. hellere dø end lide.
So that a hard death seems better to my soul than my pains.
16 Nu nok! Jeg lever ej evigt, slip mig, mit Liv er et Pust!
I have no desire for life, I would not be living for ever! Keep away from me, for my days are as a breath.
17 Hvad er et Menneske, at du regner ham og lægger Mærke til ham,
What is man, that you have made him great, and that your attention is fixed on him,
18 hjemsøger ham hver Morgen, ransager ham hvert Øjeblik?
And that your hand is on him every morning, and that you are testing him every minute?
19 Når vender du dog dit Øje fra mig, slipper mig, til jeg har sunket mit Spyt?
How long will it be before your eyes are turned away from me, so that I may have a minute's breathing-space?
20 Har jeg syndet, hvad skader det dig, du, som er Menneskets Vogter? Hvi gjorde du mig til Skive, hvorfor blev jeg dig til Byrde?
If I have done wrong, what have I done to you, O keeper of men? why have you made me a mark for your blows, so that I am a weariness to myself?
21 Hvorfor tilgiver du ikke min Synd og lader min Brøde uænset? Snart ligger jeg jo under Mulde, du søger mig - og jeg er ikke mere!
And why do you not take away my sin, and let my wrongdoing be ended? for now I go down to the dust, and you will be searching for me with care, but I will be gone.
