Gàidhlig
Salm 109
O Dhia, tha 'd adhbhar molaidh dhomh, gu balbh ad thosd na bi. Oir beul nan daoi 's nam fealltach tha gnàth-fhosgailt' air mo thì; Le teangaidh bhreugaich labhair iad am aghaidh-sa a-ghnàth. Chuartaich iad mi le briathran fuath'; chuir cath orm gun chion-fàth. Airson mo ghaoil tàid naimhdeil dhomh, is mi ri ùrnaigh ghnàth. Olc dhìol iad rium an èirig maith, is fuath airson mo ghràidh. Fear droch-bheairt cuir-sa os a chionn; biodh Sàtan aig a dheis. Urnaigh gu robh na peacadh dha, fàgar am binn e rìs. Geàrr gu robh 'aois; is glacadh neach oifig 's a dhreuchd gun iochd. Gu robh a bhean na bantrabhaich, 's nan dìlleachdain a shliochd. Air seachran biodh a shliochd a-ghnàth ag iarraidh dèirc' nam feum; Is as an àitean falamh fàs ag iarraidh bìdh dhaibh fhèin. Gun glacar fòs le luchd nam fiach gach nì a bhuineas dha; 'S a shaothair-san mar chobhartaich, gum buineadh coigrich leo. Na biodh neach ann nì tròcair air; na bitheadh fòs a h-aon A ghabhas truas da shliochd, a bhiodh nan dìlleachdain gun mhaoin. Sgrios gu robh air a ghineil-san, gan sgathadh as gu lèir; Gun cuirear as an ainm air fad, 's an àl a thig nan dèidh. Aingidheachd 'athraichean gu robh air chuimhn' aig Dia a-ghnàth; Is ciont' a mhàthar mar an ceudn' na cuirear as gu bràth. Gu robh iad air an taisbeanadh am fianais Dhè do shìor; A-chum gun sgathadh e a-mach an iomradh as an tìr. Oir dhearmaid e bhith tròcaireach, is shàraich e am bochd, 'S an t-ainnis, chum gum marbhadh e neach gan robh cridhe goirt. Mar thug e toil do mhallachadh, mallaicht' biodh e gach là; Is mar nach b'àill leis beannachadh, na èireadh beannachd dha. Amhlaidh mar rinneadh leis e fhèin a chuartachadh gach àm Le eascaint is le mallachadh, ceart mar le trusgan teann, 'S amhlaidh gun tigeadh siud gu beachd mar uisge steach na chom, 'S mar ola drùidheadh siud gu geur na chnàmhan fhèin gu trom. Biodh siud mar aodach uimeasan, ga fhalach air gach tràth; Is amhlaidh mar an crios a bhios ga chrioslachadh a-ghnàth. On Tighearna gun toirear siud dom naimhdean mar an duais, 'S don dream an aghaidh m'anam' tha gnàth-labhairt uilc gun truas. Ach air mo chrann bi thusa, Dhè, air sgàth d'ainm' uasail fhèin; Do bhrìgh gu bheil do thròcair math, dèan saoradh dhomh am fheum. Oir tha mi aimbeartach gu beachd, is tha mi ainnis lom, A ta mo chridhe air a lot an taobh a-staigh dem chom. Is amhlaidh tha mi gabhail seach mar sgàil a' claonadh sìos; Air m'fhuadach mar an lòcast truagh thuig' agus uaith a-rìs. Mo ghlùinean tha air fàilneachadh, aig meud mo thraisg a-ghnàth; Is m'fheòil aig dìobhail saill' is sult air seargadh as a ta. Am adhbhar fochaid tha mi fòs don aitim ud gu lèir; Chrath iad an cinn gu fanaideach, tràth sheall iad orm gu geur. Fòir orm, a Thighearna mo Dhia; ad thròcair cuidich mi; Gun tuig iad gur i seo do làmh, 's gur tu rinn siud, a Dhè. 'N tràth bhitheas iad ri mallachadh, beannaich-sa sinn gu pailt; Biodh orra nàir', air èirigh dhaibh; ach d'òglach-sa biodh ait. Gu robh iad air an cuartachadh, m'uil' eascairdean le nàir'; 'S mar fhallaing air an uachdar biodh an amhluadh fhèin le tàir. Ach mise, ghnàth, àrd-mholaidh mi Iehòbhah Dia lem bheul; Is fòs, am measg a' choitheanail, cuiridh mi chliù an cèill. Oir tha e leis an duine bhochd na sheasamh air a dheis, Ga theasairginn on dream lem b'àill 'ainm-san fhàgail ris.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 109
For the choirmaster. Of David. Psalm.
O God, whom I praise, do not keep silent,
for wicked and lying mouths are open,
speaking lying words against me.
They surround me with words of hatred
and attack me without a cause.
In return for my friendship
they denounce me,
but I continue to pray.
They repay my goodness with evil
and my friendship with hatred.
Set an evil one against them,
let an accuser bring them to trial;
when they are tried,
may they be found guilty,
and may their prayers condemn them.
May their days be few,
and others replace them as leaders.
May their children be orphaned
and their wives widowed.
May their children be homeless beggars
driven from ruined homes.
May creditors seize all they own,
and strangers loot their work.
May no one show faithful love to them,
or pity their orphaned children.
May their offspring die
and their names be forgotten.
May their ancestors' sins
be brought before Yahweh,
and their mothers' sins
never be forgotten.
May their sins always remain before Yahweh,
that he may cut off their memory from earth.
For they never thought to show faithful love,
but drove the poor to death,
the weak and broken-hearted.
They loved to curse others;
may their curses come on them.
They never liked to bless;
may blessings be far away from them.
Cursing for them was like clothes,
it belonged to them like the water they drank,
like the marrow in their bones.
May it wrap them round like a cloak,
like a belt forever tied round them.
May Yahweh repay my accusers like this,
those who speak evil of me.
But you, O Yahweh my King,
deal well with me for the sake of your name;
by the goodness of your faithful love,
deliver me;
for I am poor and weak,
and my wounds go right to the heart;
I fade away like shadows at dusk;
I am shaken off like a locust.
My knees give way through fasting;
my body is thin and haggard.
I am put to scorn by my accusers;
they shake their heads when they see me.
Help me, O Yahweh my God;
save me by your faithful love,
and let them know it is by your power,
that you, O Yahweh, have done it.
Let them curse, for you will bless!
Let them attack; they will be put to shame,
and your servant will rejoice!
My accusers will be clothed with disgrace
and be wrapped in shame like a cloak.
I will lift up my voice in thanksgiving to Yahweh;
and praise him in the midst of crowds;
for he stands in support of the weak,
to save their lives from those who condemn
them.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))