Psalms 120

1 The song of greces. Whanne Y was set in tribulacioun, Y criede to the Lord; and he herde me.

A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. I called out to the Lord for help in all my troubles, and he answered me.

2 Lord, delyuere thou my soule fro wickid lippis; and fro a gileful tunge.

Lord, please save me from liars and cheats!

3 What schal be youun to thee, ether what schal be leid to thee; to a gileful tunge?

What will the Lord do to you, you liars? How will he punish you?

4 Scharpe arowis of the myyti; with colis that maken desolat.

With the sharp arrows of a warrior and burning coals made from a broom tree.

5 Allas to me! for my dwelling in an alien lond is maad long, Y dwellide with men dwellinge in Cedar; my soule was myche a comelyng.

I'm sorry for myself, because I live as a foreigner in Meshech, or among the tent-dwellers of Kedar.

6 I was pesible with hem that hatiden pees;

I have lived for far too long among people who hate peace.

7 whanne Y spak to hem, thei ayenseiden me with outen cause.

I want peace, but when I talk of peace, they want war.