Parallel
Job 30
Louis Segond 1910 · Berean Standard Bible
Et maintenant!… je suis la risée de plus jeunes que moi,
“But now they mock me, men younger than I am, whose fathers I would have refused to put with my sheep dogs.
Mais à quoi me servirait la force de leurs mains?
What use to me was the strength of their hands, since their vigor had left them?
Desséchés par la misère et la faim,
Gaunt from poverty and hunger, they gnawed the dry land, and the desolate wasteland by night.
Ils arrachent près des arbrisseaux les herbes sauvages,
They plucked mallow among the shrubs, and the roots of the broom tree were their food (note: Or their fuel).
On les chasse du milieu des hommes,
They were banished from among men, shouted at like thieves,
Ils habitent dans d’affreuses vallées,
so that they lived on the slopes of the wadis, among the rocks and in holes in the ground.
Ils hurlent parmi les buissons,
They cried out among the shrubs and huddled beneath the nettles.
Et maintenant, je suis l’objet de leurs chansons,
And now they mock me in song; I have become a byword among them.
Ils ont horreur de moi, ils se détournent,
They abhor me and keep far from me; they do not hesitate to spit in my face.
Ils n’ont plus de retenue et ils m’humilient,
Because God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they have cast off restraint (note: Hebrew the bridle) in my presence.
Ces misérables se lèvent à ma droite et me poussent les pieds,
The rabble arises at my right; they lay snares for my feet and build siege ramps against me.
Ils détruisent mon propre sentier et travaillent à ma perte,
They tear up my path; they profit from my destruction, with no one to restrain them (note: Or with no one to assist them).
Ils arrivent comme par une large brèche,
They advance as through a wide breach; through the ruins they keep rolling in.
Les terreurs m’assiègent;
Terrors are turned loose against me; they drive away my dignity as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed like a cloud.
Et maintenant, mon âme s’épanche en mon sein,
And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction grip me.
La nuit me perce et m’arrache les os,
Night pierces my bones, and my gnawing pains never rest.
Par la violence du mal mon vêtement perd sa forme,
With great force He grasps my garment (note: LXX; Hebrew He becomes like a garment to me or my garment is disfigured); He seizes me by the collar of my tunic.
Je crie vers toi, et tu ne me réponds pas;
I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer; when I stand up, You merely look at me.
Tu deviens cruel contre moi,
You have ruthlessly turned on me; You oppose me with Your strong hand.
Tu me soulèves, tu me fais voler au-dessus du vent,
You snatch me up into the wind and drive me before it; You toss me about (note: Or You dissolve me) in the storm.
Car, je le sais, tu me mènes à la mort,
Yes, I know that You will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living.
Mais celui qui va périr n’étend-il pas les mains?
Yet no one stretches out his hand against a ruined man when he cries for help in his distress.
N’avais-je pas des larmes pour l’infortuné?
Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has my soul not grieved for the needy?
J’attendais le bonheur, et le malheur est arrivé;
But when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, darkness fell.
Mes entrailles bouillonnent sans relâche,
I am churning within and cannot rest; days of affliction confront me.
Je marche noirci, mais non par le soleil;
I go about blackened, but not by the sun. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
Je suis devenu le frère des chacals,
I have become a brother of jackals (note: Or serpents or dragons), a companion of ostriches (note: Literally of daughters of an ostrich or of daughters of an owl).
Ma harpe n’est plus qu’un instrument de deuil,
My harp is tuned to mourning and my flute to the sound of weeping.