Psalms 42
1 To the chief music-maker. Maschil. Of the sons of Korah. Like the desire of the roe for the water-streams, so is my soul's desire for you, O God.
Til Sangmesteren. En Maskil af Koras Sønner.
2 My soul is dry for need of God, the living God; when may I come and see the face of God?
Som Hjorten skriger efter rindende Vand, saaledes skriger min Sjæl efter dig, o Gud.
3 My tears have been my food day and night, while they keep saying to me, Where is your God?
Min Sjæl tørster efter Gud, den levende Gud; naar skal jeg komme og stedes for Guds Aasyn?
4 Let my soul be overflowing with grief when these things come back to my mind, how I went in company to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with the song of those who were keeping the feast.
Min Graad er blevet mit Brød baade Dag og Nat, fordi de stadig spørger mig: »Hvor er din Gud?«
5 Why are you crushed down, O my soul? and why are you troubled in me? put your hope in God; for I will again give him praise who is my help and my God.
Min Sjæl er opløst, naar jeg kommer i Hu, hvorledes jeg vandred med Skaren op til Guds Hus under Jubelraab og Lovsang i Højtidsskaren.
6 My soul is crushed down in me, so I will keep you in mind; from the land of Jordan and of the Hermons, from the hill Mizar.
Hvorfor er du nedbøjet, Sjæl, hvi bruser du i mig? Bi efter Gud, thi end skal jeg takke ham, mit Aasyns Frelse og min Gud!
7 Deep is sounding to deep at the noise of your waterfalls; all your waves have gone rolling over me.
Nedbøjet er min Sjæl, derfor mindes jeg dig fra Jordans og Hermontindernes Land, fra Miz'ars Bjerg.
8 But the Lord will send his mercy in the daytime, and in the night his song will be with me, a prayer to the God of my life.
Dyb raaber til Dyb ved dine Vandfalds Brusen, alle dine Brændinger og Bølger skyller hen over mig.
9 I will say to God my Rock, Why have you let me go from your memory? why do I go in sorrow because of the attacks of my haters?
Sin Miskundhed sender HERREN om Dagen, hans Sang er hos mig om Natten, en Bøn til mit Livs Gud.
10 The cruel words of my haters are like a crushing of my bones; when they say to me every day, Where is your God?
Jeg siger til Gud, min Klippe: Hvorfor har du glemt mig, hvorfor skal jeg vandre sorgfuld, trængt af Fjender?
11 Why are you crushed down, O my soul? and why are you troubled in me? put your hope in God; for I will again give him praise who is my help and my God.
Det er, som knustes mine Ben, naar Fjenderne haaner mig, naar de stadig spørger mig: »Hvor er din Gud?« Hvorfor er du nedbøjet, Sjæl, hvi bruser du i mig? Bi efter Gud, thi end skal jeg takke ham, mit Aasyns Frelse og min Gud!
