Psalms 39
1 For the Chief Musician. For Jeduthun. A Psalm by David. I said, “I will watch my ways, so that I do not sin with my tongue. I will keep my mouth with a bridle while the wicked is before me.”
(Til sangmesteren. Til Jedutun. En salme af David.) Jeg sagde: "Mine Veje vil jeg vogte på, så jeg ikke synder med Tungen; min Mund vil jeg holde i Tømme, så længe den gudløse er mig nær!"
2 I was mute with silence. I held my peace, even from good. My sorrow was stirred.
Jeg var stum og tavs, jeg tav for at undgå tomme Ord, men min Smerte naged,
3 My heart was hot within me. While I meditated, the fire burned. I spoke with my tongue:
mit Hjerte brændte i Brystet, Ild lued op, mens jeg grunded; da talte jeg med min Tunge.
4 “LORD, show me my end, what is the measure of my days. Let me know how frail I am.
Lær mig, HERRE, at kende mit Endeligt, det Mål af Dage, jeg har, lad mig kende, hvor snart jeg skal bort!
5 Behold, you have made my days hand widths. My lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely every man stands as a breath.” (Selah)
Se, i Håndsbredder målte du mine Dage ud, mit Liv er som intet for dig, som et Åndepust står hvert Menneske der. (Sela)
6 “Surely every man walks like a shadow. Surely they busy themselves in vain. He heaps up, and does not know who shall gather.
Kun som en Skygge er Menneskets Vandring, kun Tomhed er deres Travlhed; de samler og ved ej, hvem der får det.
7 Now, Lord, what do I wait for? My hope is in you.
Hvad bier jeg, Herre, da efter? Mit Håb står ene til dig.
8 Deliver me from all my transgressions. Do not make me the reproach of the foolish.
Fri mig for al min Synd, gør mig ikke til Spot for Dårer!
9 I was mute. I did not open my mouth, because you did it.
Jeg tier og åbner ikke min Mund, du voldte det jo.
10 Remove your scourge away from me. I am overcome by the blow of your hand.
Borttag din Plage fra mig, under din vældige Hånd går jeg til.
11 When you rebuke and correct man for iniquity, you consume his wealth like a moth. Surely every man is but a breath.” (Selah)
Når du tugter en Mand med Straf for hans Brøde, smuldrer du hans Herlighed hen som Møl; kun et Åndepust er hvert Menneske. (Sela)
12 “Hear my prayer, LORD, and give ear to my cry. Do not be silent at my tears. For I am a stranger with you, a foreigner, as all my fathers were.
Hør, o HERRE, min Bøn og lyt til mit Skrig, til mine Tårer tie du ej! Thi en fremmed er jeg hos dig, en Gæst som alle mine Fædre.
13 Oh spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go away and exist no more.”
Se bort fra mig, så jeg kvæges, før jeg går bort og ej mer er til!
