Psalms 12

1 Unto the end; for the octave, a psalm for David. Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children 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 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.

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

3 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.

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

4 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?

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

5 By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I win set him in safety; I will deal confidently in his regard.

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 the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined 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 Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.

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

8 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.

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