Psalms 12

1 To the Chief Musician. On the Octave. A Melody of David. O save Yahweh, for the man of lovingkindness, is no more, for the faithful, have vanished, from among the sons of men.

Nǝƣmiqilǝrning bexiƣa tapxurulup, xeminit bilǝn oⱪulsun dǝp, Dawut yazƣan küy: — Ⱪutⱪuzƣaysǝn, Pǝrwǝrdigar, qünki ihlasmǝn adǝm tügǝp kǝtti; Adǝmlǝr arisidin sadiⱪ mɵminlǝr ƣayip boldi.

2 Deception, speak they, every one with his neighbour, —with lips uttering smooth things—with a heart and a heart, do they speak.

Ⱨǝrbirsi ɵz yeⱪinliriƣa yalƣan eytidu; Huxamǝtqi lǝwlǝrdǝ, alikɵngüllük bilǝn sɵzlixidu.

3 May Yahweh cut off All the lips that utter smooth things, —the tongue that speaketh swelling words;

Pǝrwǝrdigar barliⱪ huxamǝtqi lǝwlǝrni, Ⱨakawurlarqǝ sɵzlǝydiƣan tilni kesiwǝtkǝy!

4 Them who say—With our tongue, will we prevail, our lips, are our own, who is our master?

Ular: «Tilimiz bilǝn ƣǝlibǝ ⱪilimiz; Lǝwlirimiz bolsa ɵzimizningkidur; Kim bizgǝ Rǝb bolalisun?» — dǝydu.

5 Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say, —I will place [him] in safety—let him puff at him!

«Ezilgüqi ajizlarni basⱪan zulum wǝjidin, Miskinlǝrning aⱨuzarliri wǝjidin, Ⱨazirla ornumdin turay» — dǝydu Pǝrwǝrdigar, «Mǝn ularƣa, ular zariⱪip kütkǝn azadliⱪni yǝtküzimǝn».

6 The words of Yahweh, are words, that are pure, silver refined in a crucible of earth, purified seven times!

Pǝrwǝrdigarning sɵzliri bolsa sap sɵzlǝrdur; Ular yǝttǝ ⱪetim saplaxturulƣan, Sapal ⱪazanda tawlanƣan kümüxtǝktur.

7 Thou, O Yahweh, wilt keep them, —Thou wilt guard him, from this generation unto times age-abiding.

Sǝn Pǝrwǝrdigar, ularni saⱪlaysǝn; Sǝn [mɵminlǝrni] muxu dǝwrdin mǝnggügǝ ⱪoƣdaysǝn;

8 On every side, the lawless, march about, —when worthlessness is exalted by the sons of men.

[Qünki] rǝzil adǝmlǝr ⱨǝryanda ƣadiyip yürüxidu, Pǝskǝxlik insan baliliri arisida aliyjanabliⱪ dǝp mahtalmaⱪta!