Parallel
Job 4
Louis Segond 1910 · Berean Standard Bible
Si nous osons ouvrir la bouche, en seras-tu peiné?
“If one ventures a word with you, will you be wearied? Yet who can keep from speaking?
Voici, tu as souvent enseigné les autres,
Surely you have instructed many, and have strengthened their feeble hands.
Tes paroles ont relevé ceux qui chancelaient,
Your words have steadied those who stumbled; you have braced the knees that were buckling.
Et maintenant qu’il s’agit de toi, tu faiblis!
But now trouble has come upon you, and you are weary. It strikes you, and you are dismayed.
Ta crainte de Dieu n’est-elle pas ton soutien?
Is your reverence not your confidence, and the uprightness of your ways your hope?
Cherche dans ton souvenir: quel est l’innocent qui a péri?
Consider now, I plead: Who, being innocent, has ever perished? Or where have the upright been destroyed?
Pour moi, je l’ai vu, ceux qui labourent l’iniquité
As I have observed, those who plow iniquity and those who sow trouble reap the same.
Ils périssent par le souffle de Dieu,
By the breath of God they perish, and by the blast of His anger they are consumed.
Le rugissement des lions prend fin,
The lion may roar, and the fierce lion may growl, yet the teeth of the young lions are broken.
Le lion périt faute de proie,
The old lion perishes for lack of prey, and the cubs of the lioness are scattered.
Une parole est arrivée furtivement jusqu’à moi,
Now a word came to me secretly; my ears caught a whisper of it.
Au moment où les visions de la nuit agitent la pensée,
In disquieting visions in the night, when deep sleep falls on men,
Je fus saisi de frayeur et d’épouvante,
fear and trembling came over me and made all my bones shudder.
Un esprit passa près de moi…
Then a spirit (note: Or a wind) glided past my face, and the hair on my body bristled.
Une figure d’un aspect inconnu était devant mes yeux,
It stood still, but I could not discern its appearance; a form loomed before my eyes, and I heard a whispering voice:
L’homme serait-il juste devant Dieu?
‘Can a mortal be more righteous than God, or a man more pure than his Maker?
Si Dieu n’a pas confiance en ses serviteurs,
If God puts no trust in His servants, and He charges His angels with error,
Combien plus chez ceux qui habitent des maisons d’argile,
how much more those who dwell in houses of clay, whose foundations are in the dust, who can be crushed like a moth!
Du matin au soir ils sont brisés,
They are smashed to pieces from dawn to dusk; unnoticed, they perish forever.
Le fil de leur vie est coupé,
Are not their tent cords pulled up, so that they die without wisdom?’