Gàidhlig
Salm 74
Carson a thilg thu sinne uat? An ann gu bràth, a Dhè? Carson ri caoraich d'ionaltraidh a las do chorraich gheur? Cuimhnich, a Dhè, do choitheanal a cheannaich thu o chèin; Slat d'oighreachd fòs a shaoradh leat, Sion, do chòmhnaidh fhèin. A-chum nam fàsach sìorraidh buan, do chasan tog gu grad; Is chum gach olc a rinn do nàmh ad theampall naomh air fad. Do naimhdean rinn iad beucadh borb measg coitheanal do shluaigh; Is chuir iad suas am brataichean mar chomharr' air am buaidh. Bu chliùiteach neach mar dhèante leis a thuagh a thogail suas, Air crannan àrda dosrach tiugh, a-chum an leagadh nuas. Ach nis an obair shnaidhte ghrinn, le òrdan 's tuaghan bhris; Is chuir iad suas na lasair dheirg do theampall naomh ga sgrios; Taigh-còmhnaidh naomha d'ainme, Dhè, feuch, thruaill iad e le tàir, Ga mhilleadh is ga leagadh sìos cho ìosal ris an làr. Nan cridhe labhair iad mar seo, Sgriosamaid iad le chèil'; Gach sinagog th'aig Dia san tìr, loisgeadh iad leo gu lèir. Ar comharradh chan fhaicear leinn; fàidh chan eil idir ann, Cha mhò tha neach nar measg cho geur don lèir cia fad an t-àm. Cia fhad a bheir, O Dhè nan dùl, na naimhdean toibheum uap'? An toir an nàmhaid beum am feasd dod ainm-sa, Dhia nan sluagh? Carson a thillear leat do làmh, do dheaslàmh air a h-ais? O buin a-mach od bhroilleach i, chum fuasgladh oirnn gu cas. Oir Dia na glòir' tha neartmhor àrd, o chian is e mo Rìgh, Am buillsgean talmhainn le mòr-neart, ag obrach' slàint' is sìth'. An fhairge sgaoileadh leat led neart, is cinn ro-làidir chruaidh Nan dràgon bhriseadh leat san uisg', a' tabhairt orra buaidh. Cinn Lebhiatain àghmhoir mhòir 's tu fhèin a bhris is phronn; Is thug thu e mar bhiadh don t-sluagh, a bha san fhàsach lom. 'S tu sgoilt an tobar is an tuil; 's tu thiormaich aibhnean mòr'. 'S tu dheasaich solas agus grian, is leat an oidhch', 's an lò. Crìochan na talmhainn shocraich thu; rinn thu an samhradh teth, 'S an geamhrach fòs do rinneadh leat, nan aimsirean fa leth. Gun tug na naimhdean toibheum uap', cuir siud air chuimhne, Dhè, 'S gun tug am poball amaideach dod ainm ro-uasal beum. Anam do chalmain na toir suas do chuideachd mhòir nan daoi; Is coitheanal do dheòraidh bochd na dearmaid iad a-chaoidh. Do chùmhnant thoir fa-near, a Dhè, oir àitean dorch' na tìr', Tha uile air an àiteachadh le luchd an fhòirneirt ghèir; Na tillear air an ais le nàir' na dh'fhuiling fòirneart goirt; An dream tha ainnis aimbeartach, dèanadh iad moladh ort. Tog ort is èirich suas, a Dhè; tagair do chùis gu treun; Cuimhnich mar tha an t-amadan gach là toirt dhutsa beum. Na dearmaid guth na muinntir sin nan naimhdean dhut a tha; Tha bruidhinn dhaoin' a dh'èirich riut sìor dhol am meud a-ghnàth.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 74
Poem. Of Asaph.
O God, why have you cast us off?
And will it be forever?
Why burn with anger
at the sheep of your pasture?
Remember the people you adopted so long ago,
the tribe you redeemed to be your inheritance;
remember Mount Zion, the place where
you lived.
Pick your way now through the unending ruins,
all the destruction foes brought on the
sanctuary.
Your enemies roared in the place where you met
with us,
and set up their standards as tokens of victory.
Like men wielding axes through thickets of trees,
with axes and hatchets they smashed the carved
panelling;
set fire to the sanctuary,
tore down and polluted the home of your
name.
They said in their hearts, "We will crush them
completely!"
They burned every holy place all through
the land.
We no longer see miracles, no prophets are left,
and none of us knows for how long this
will last.
How long will you let the foe mock you, O God?
Will the enemy insult your name evermore?
Why do you hold back your hand, your right
hand?
Take it out from the folds of your garment
and kill!
You, O God, are my king from the first;
source of salvation throughout the earth.
It was you who divided the sea by your power;
you smashed the sea serpent's heads in
the waters;
it was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan
and gave him as food to the beasts of
the desert.
You opened up channels for springs and torrents,
and dried up streams that had flowed for ever.
Yours is the day and yours is the night,
you established the sun and the moon.
You alone fixed all the regions of earth;
you created both summer and winter.
Remember, O Yahweh, the enemy's blasphemy,
how foolish people poured scorn on
your name.
Do not abandon your dove to the wild beasts;
forget not for ever the sufferings of
your people.
Show concern for your covenant,
because thoughts of violence
fill all the dark places throughout the land.
Do not let the oppressed have to flee in disgrace;
may the poor and downtrodden
give praise to your name.
O God, rise up and defend your cause;
remember fools mocking you all the day long.
Do not ignore all the shouts of your enemies,
the unending uproar made by your foes.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))