¹Hvorfor har ej den Almægtige opsparet Tider, hvi får de, som kender ham, ikke hans Dage at se?

¹Wherefore from the Mighty One Times have not been hidden, And those knowing Him have not seen His days.

²De onde flytter Markskel, ranede Hjorde har de på Græs.

²The borders they reach, A drove they have taken violently away, Yea, they do evil.

³faderløses Æsel fører de bort, tager Enkens Okse som Borgen:

³The ass of the fatherless they lead away, They take in pledge the ox of the widow,

⁴de trænger de fattige af Vejen. Landets arme må alle skjule sig.

⁴They turn aside the needy from the way, Together have hid the poor of the earth.

⁵Som vilde Æsler i Ørkenen går de ud til deres Gerning søgende efter Næring; Steppen er Brød for Børnene.

⁵Lo, wild asses in a wilderness, They have gone out about their work, Seeking early for prey, A mixture for himself — food for young ones.

⁶De høster på Marken om Natten, i Rigmandens Vingård sanker de efter.

⁶In a field his provender they reap, And the vineyard of the wicked they glean.

⁷Om Natten ligger de nøgne, uden Klæder, uden Tæppe i Hulden.

⁷The naked they cause to lodge Without clothing. And there is no covering in the cold.

⁸De vædes af Bjergenes Regnskyl, klamrer sig af Mangel på Ly til Klippen.

⁸From the inundation of hills they are wet, And without a refuge — have embraced a rock.

⁹- Man river den faderløse fra Brystet, tager den armes Barn som Borgen.

⁹They take violently away From the breast the orphan, And on the poor they lay a pledge.

¹⁰Nøgne vandrer de, uden Klæder, sultne bærer de Neg;

¹⁰Naked, they have gone without clothing, And hungry — have taken away a sheaf.

¹¹mellem Murene presser de Olie. de træder Persen og tørster.

¹¹Between their walls they make oil, Wine-presses they have trodden, and thirst.

¹²De drives fra By og Hus, og Børnenes Hunger skriger. Men Gud, han ænser ej vrangt.

¹²Because of enmity men do groan, And the soul of pierced ones doth cry, And God doth not give praise.

¹³Andre hører til Lysets Fjender, de kender ikke hans Veje og holder sig ej på hans Stier:

¹³They have been among rebellious ones of light, They have not discerned His ways, Nor abode in His paths.

¹⁴Før det lysner, står Morderen op, han myrder arm og fattig; om Natten sniger Tyven sig om;

¹⁴At the light doth the murderer rise, He doth slay the poor and needy, And in the night he is as a thief.

¹⁵Horkarlens Øje lurer på Skumring, han tænker: "Intet Øje kan se mig!" og skjuler sit Ansigt under en Maske.

¹⁵And the eye of an adulterer Hath observed the twilight, Saying, `No eye doth behold me.` And he putteth the face in secret.

¹⁶I Mørke bryder de ind i Huse, de lukker sig inde om Dagen, thi ingen af dem vil vide af Lys.

¹⁶He hath dug in the darkness — houses; By day they shut themselves up, They have not known light.

¹⁷For dem er Mørket Morgen, thide er kendt med Mørkets Rædsler.

¹⁷When together, morning [is] to them death shade, When he discerneth the terrors of death shade.

¹⁸Over Vandfladen jages han hen, hans Arvelod i Landet forbandes, han færdes ikke på Vejen til Vingården.

¹⁸Light he [is] on the face of the waters, Vilified is their portion in the earth, He turneth not the way of vineyards.

¹⁹Som Tørke og Hede tager Snevand, så Dødsriget dem, der har syndet.

¹⁹Drought — also heat — consume snow-waters, Sheol [those who] have sinned.

²⁰Han er glemt på sin Hjemstavns Torv, hans Storhed kommes ej mer i Hu, Uretten knækkes som Træet.

²⁰Forget him doth the womb, Sweeten [on] him doth the worm, No more is he remembered, And broken as a tree is wickedness.

²¹Han var ond mod den golde, der ikke fødte, mod Enken gjorde han ikke vel;

²¹Treating evil the barren [who] beareth not, And [to] the widow he doth no good,

²²dem, det gik skævt, rev han bort i sin Vælde. Han står op og er ikke tryg på sit Liv,

²²And hath drawn the mighty by his power, He riseth, and none believeth in life.

²³han styrtes uden Håb og Støtte, og på hans Veje er idel Nød.

²³He giveth to him confidence, and he is supported, And his eyes [are] on their ways.

²⁴Hans Storhed er stakket, så er han ej mer, han bøjes og skrumper ind som Melde og skæres af som Aksenes Top.

²⁴High they were [for] a little, and they are not, And they have been brought low. As all [others] they are shut up, And as the head of an ear of corn cut off.

²⁵Og hvis ikke - hvo gør mig til Løgner, hvo gør mine Ord til intet?

²⁵And if not now, who doth prove me a liar, And doth make of nothing my word?