Gàidhlig
Salm 22
Mo Dhia, mo Dhia, cuim' thrèig thu mi led fhurtachd uam an cèin; O bhriathran goirt mo bhùiridh àird, gun fhuasgladh orm am fheum? Mo Dhia, cha tug thu freagradh dhomh, san là 'n do ghairm mi ort: An uair bu chòir dhomh tàmh san oidhch', chan eil mi fhèin am thosd. Gidheadh tha thusa fìorghlan naomh', a Dhè, os cionn gach sgèil, Ad chòmhnaidh anns an àros sin, sa bheil cliù Israèil. Do rinn ar sinnsir dhìotsa bun; Is shaor thu iad mar dh'earb. Do ghlaodh iad riut, is shaoradh iad: dh'earb riut, gun aghaidh dhearg. Ach mise fòs cha duin', ach cnuimh: gràin dhaoin', is tàir nan slògh. Cùis crathadh cinn, is casadh bhèil, spòrs do na chì mo dhòigh. Ag ràdh, Do rinn e bun à Dia, chum fuasgladh air na fheum: Nis dèanadh e a theasairginn, o thug e dha làn-spèis. Ach 's tus' an tì a bhuin a-mach à broinn mo mhàthar mi; Is tu bu bharrant dòchais dhomh, nuair bha mi air a' chìch. On bhroinn do thilgeadh ortsa mi, air bhith dhomh òg is maoth; O thàinig mi on bhroinn a-mach, is tu mo Dhia ro-chaomh. A Dhè, na bi-sa fada uam, Oir 's dlùth dhomh trioblaid theann; 'S gun agam neach gum chuideachadh, no aon a chuireas leam. Do chuartaich umam mòran tharbh, mum thimcheall air gach làimh; Dh'iadh umam tairbh ro-làidir bhorb' am Basan bha nan tàmh. Gu farsaing dh'fhosgail iad am beul, mar leòmhann allta garg; A' tabhairt sitheadh reubaidh orm le bùireadh fiadhaich borb. Mar uisge dhòrtadh mise mach, mo chnàmhan sgàint' o chèil': Mo chridh' am chom an taobh a-staigh, air leaghadh tha mar chèir. Air tiormachadh mar phota crè a ta mo neart, a Dhè; Mo theanga leantainn tha rim ghial, gu ùir-bhàis thug thu mi. Oir dh'iadh mun cuairt orm madraidh gharg', bhuail umam thall 's a-bhos Mòr-bhuidheann luchd na h-aingidheachd; lot iad mo làmh 's mo chos. Mo chnàmhan uile faodaidh mi an àireamh aon is aon: Gu geur tha iad ag amharc orm, a' dearcadh orm gach taobh. Mo thrusgan eatorra do roinn, croinn thilg iad air mo bhrat. Ach fad om chobhair, Dhia mo neirt, na fan, ach deifrich ort. Dom anam tabhair fuasgladh deas on chlaidheamh sgaiteach gheur; Is m'aon-ghràdh caomh gun saorar leat, o neart nam madradh treun'. O bheul nan leòmhann làidir borb', Dhè, fuasgail orm gun stad: O adhaircean nam buabhall treun'; oir chual thu mi gu grad. Dom bhràithrean cuiream d'ainm-s' an cèill; san eireachd molam thu. Shìl Iàcoib, 's a luchd eagail Dè, glòir thugaibh dha is cliù: Oirbhs', Iarmad Israeil air fad, biodh 'eagal-san gu mòr: Oir tarcais riamh cha d'rinn air bochd, 's nìor ghabh e gràin da leòn: Cha d'fhalaich, 's cha do cheil a ghnùis, ga thrèigsinn ann a theinn; Nuair rinn e glaodh is gearan ris, thug èisdeachd dha gu binn. 'S ann ortsa bhios mo mholadh àrd san eireachdas, a Dhè: Mo bhòidean ìocam fòs an làth'r na dream don eagal e. Na daoine sin tha macanta ithidh, is gheibh an sàth: Na dh'iarras Dia àrd-mholaidh e; bhur cridh' bidh beò gu bràth. Tillidh ri Dia gach iomall tìr', is cuimhnichidh iad air: Seadh, sluagh nam fineachan gu lèir dhut gèill is urram bheir. Airson gur le Iehòbhah mòr an rìoghachd le còir cheart: 'S am measg nam fineachan air fad 's leis uachdranachd is neart. Na daoine reamhar anns gach tìr, ithidh, is gèillidh dha: Dha cromaidh sìos na thèid san uaigh, cha chùm neach 'anam beò. Thig sliochd is seirbhis nì do Dhia, dha measar iad mar linn. Innsidh a cheart don àl ri teachd, gum b'esan siud a rinn.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 22
For the choirmaster. To ‘The Doe of the Dawn’. Psalm. Of David.
My God, O my God,
why have you forsaken me?
Why are you far from saving me,
so far from hearing my groans?
O my God,
by day I call but you do not answer;
and by night, but I get no respite.
Yet you are the Holy One,
enthroned in Israel's praises.
Our fathers put their trust in you,
they trusted, and you made them free.
They cried to you and were saved;
they trusted you and were not put to shame.
But I am a worm, not a human;
the scorn of mankind and contempt of
the people.
All who see me jeer at me,
they sneer at me and wag their heads:
"He trusts in Yahweh; let Yahweh save him!
Let him deliver him,
because he loves him!"
Yet you were the one
who brought me from the womb;
you kept me safe on my mother's breast.
At my birth I was put in your care;
from my mother's womb you have been
my God.
Do not stay far from me;
trouble is near to me;
there is no help.
Many bulls are surrounding me,
strong bulls of Bashan
are circling around me.
Roaring and ravening lions
open their jaws at me.
My strength drains like water,
all my bones are disjointed.
My heart is like wax:
it has melted within me.
My strength is dry as earthenware,
my tongue sticks to my mouth
and I am lying in the dust of death.
Dogs have surrounded me;
an evil group has encircled me;
they have pierced my hands and my feet.
I can count all my bones
while they look on and gloat.
They share out my garments
and toss for my clothes.
But you, O Yahweh, do not stay aloof;
come quickly, my Strength, to my aid!
Save my soul from the sword,
my only life from the grip of the dogs.
Deliver me from the lions' mouths,
save me from wild oxen's horns.
I will speak of your fame to my brothers;
I will praise you in the great assembly.
Praise him, all you who fear Yahweh!
Honour him, you offspring of Jacob!
Revere him, you children of Israel!
For he has not spurned or ignored
the poverty of the poor.
He has not turned his face from him
but has heard his cry for help.
You inspire me with praise in the crowded
assembly;
I fulfil my vows before all who fear you.
The poor will eat to the full;
they who seek Yahweh will praise him.
May your hearts live forever!
May the whole world remember
and turn to Yahweh;
May all families of nations
do homage before him,
for royal power belongs to Yahweh
and he it is who rules the nations.
All who prosper on earth will feast and worship;
all who are mortal will kneel before him,
all who cannot give themselves life.
Their children will serve him;
the child of the future
will hear about Yahweh;
his salvation will be proclaimed
to a nation not yet born,
that he has fulfilled it.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))