Gàidhlig
Salm 42
Mar thogras fiadh na sruthan uisg' le bùireadh àrd gu geur, Mar sin tha m'anam plosgartaich, ag èigheach riutsa, Dhè. Tha tart air m'anam 'n geall air Dia, 'n geall air an Dia tha beò; O cuin a thig 's a nochdar mi am fianais Dhia na glòir'? Gach là is oidhch' is iad mo dheòir as cuibhreann dhomh 's as biadh; An uair a their iad rium a-ghnàth, Càit bheil a-nis do Dhia? Tha m'anam air a dhòrtadh mach, a' cuimhneachadh gach nì; Oir chaidh mi leis a' chuideachd mhòir, dol leo gu teampall Dè; Seadh, chaidh mi leo le gàirdeachas, is moladh fòs le chèil', Seadh, leis a' chuideachd sin a bha a' coimhead làithean fèill'. O m'anam! cuim' a leagadh thu le dìobhail misnich sìos? Is cuim' a bheil thu 'n taobh staigh dhìom fo thrioblaid is fo sgios? Cuir dòchas daingeann ann an Dia, oir fhathast molam e, Airson na furtachd is na slàint' thig dhomh o 'aodann rèidh. Thuit m'anam annam sìos, a Dhè, ghrad-chuimhnich mi 'n sin ort; O thalamh Iòrdain, Hermoin àird, o Mhitsar fòs nan cnoc. Le fuaim do shruthan uisge fhèin, tha doimhn' air dhoimhne gairm; Do stuaighean, is do thonnan àrd' dol tharam tha le toirm. Ordaichidh Dia de ghràsan dhomh a choibhneas anns an lò; San oidhche nì mi guidhe 's ceòl ri Dia a chùm mi beò. Mo charraig, cuim' a thrèig thu mi? ri Dia a deir mi fhèin; Is cuim' a bheil mi triall fo bhròn, bhrìgh fòineart m'eascair thrèin? Mar lann am chnàmhan, m'eascairdean toirt toibheim dhomh a ta; Tràth their iad rium gu fanaideach, Càit bheil do Dhia? gach là. O m'anam, cuim' a leagadh thu, le dìobhail misnich sìos? Is cuim' a bheil thu n' taobh staigh dhìom fo aimheal is fo sgios? Cuir dòchas daingeann ann an Dia; oir molam e a-ghnàth. O 's e as slàinte do mo ghnùis, is e mo Dhia gu bràth.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 42
For the choirmaster. Poem. Of the sons of Korah.
As deer long for running streams,
I long for you, my God.
My soul thirsts for God,
the living God;
when can I go and meet with God?
Day and night I drink my tears;
all day long I live with taunts:
"Where is your God?"
I call to mind, with heart's distress,
how I marched with throngs
to the house of God
amidst exultant shouts of praise,
the happy noise of pilgrimage.
Why so sad? Why groans of pain?
Still hope in God; still give him praise;
my Saviour God.
Deep in my pain I think of you,
from Jordan, the Hermons,
and Mizar's heights.
Deep calls to deep as your cataracts roar;
as your waves and your breakers
roll over me.
All day, unceasingly, God pours his love on me;
all night I sing to the God of my life.
I will ask God, my rock,
"Why have you gone from me?
Why must I mourn, oppressed by the enemy?"
My bones are all crushed with the taunts of my
foes.
All day they ask me,
"Where is your God?"
Why am I downcast? Why all this sighing?
Put hope in God!
For I shall yet praise him,
my Saviour, my God.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))