Gàidhlig
Salm 38
A Thighearn, ann ad chorraich mhòir na cronaich mi gu garg; Na dèan mo smachdachadh gu geur, an uair a lasas d'fhearg. Oir tha do shaighdean guineach geur sàitht' annam fhèin gu teann: Is orm a tha do làmh gu trom, gam chumail sìos gach àm. Chan eil maoin fhallaineachd am fheòil, airson do chorraich ghèir; Am chnàmhan chan eil tàmh no fois, airson mo pheacaidh fhèin. Oir chaidh mo pheacaidh os mo chionn; tàid orm nan eire thruim. Mo chreuchdan tha ro-lobhta, 's breun; mo ghòraich 's coireach rium. Tha mi gu cràiteach, easlan, crom, a' triall gach là le bròn. Mo leasraidh làn de ghalar breun: gun fhallaineachd am fheòil. Tàim lag is brùit': a' bùireadh fòs trìd an-shocair mo chrìdh'. Ad làth'r, a Dhè, tha m'uile mhiann: chan fhalaicht' ort mo chaoidh. Mo chridhe tha sìor phlosgartaich, mo neart chaidh uam gu glan; An taic ri fradharc geur mo shùl, sin agam fòs cha d'fhan. Tha luchd mo ghaoil 's mo chàirdean caomh a' seasamh fad om bheum, Mo choimhearsnaich is luchd mo phàirt, a' teicheadh uam an cèin. Sealg orm a tha luchd-iarraidh m'anm': luchd-iarraidh m'uilc a-ghnàth, A' labhairt nithean aimhleasach, 's a' smaoineach' ceilg' gach là. Ach mise fòs mar bhodhar mi, nach cluinneadh guth no sgeul: Is cosmhail mi ri duine balbh, gun chomas fosgladh bèil. Mar sin mar dhuine mi nach cluinn, gun achmhasan na bheul. Oir dh'earb mi riut, a Dhè, mo Thriath: Dhia, freagraidh tus' am fheum. Thubhairt mi, Chum nach maoidheadh iad, thoir freagradh dhomh gu cas; Is chum nach dèan iad gàirdeachas 'n tràth shleamhnaicheas mo chas. Oir 's dlùth chum claonaidh mi, 's mo bhròn am fhianais tha do ghnàth. Mo lochd do innseam, is fom chiont', mòr-aimheal ormsa tha. Ach mheud 's a tha nan naimhdean dhomh, 's ro-bheothail iad 's is treun; Is luchd mo mhìoruin eucorach, tàid lìonmhor mar an ceudn'. 'S iad sin as naimhdean dhomh gu fìor, luchd-dìolaidh maith le olc; Airson gu bheil mi leantainn air an nì tha math gun lochd. Na trèig mi, Thighearna: mo Dhia, na bi-sa uam an cèin. Dhia, greas a-chum mo chuideachaidh, oir 's tu mo shlàinte fhèin.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 38
Psalm. Of David. In commemoration.
O Yahweh, do not rebuke me in your anger,
or discipline me in your wrath.
For your arrows have pierced me,
and your hand has come down on me.
Your wrath has left no health in my body,
and my bones have no health because of
my sin.
My iniquities have poured over my head
like a burden to heavy to bear.
My loathsome wounds fester
because of my folly.
I am bowed down and prostrate;
I spend all day mourning.
My loins burn with fever,
no part is unscathed.
Numbed and utterly crushed,
I groan aloud in distress of heart.
You know all my longings, O Lord,
my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart is throbbing, my strength has failed;
the light has faded from my eyes.
My friends and companions shun my wounds;
even my neighbours keep far away.
Those who would harm me have set their traps;
those who want ill for me talk of my ruin;
all day long they plot their treachery.
But I hear nothing, as if I were deaf;
I say not a word like someone dumb.
I behave like one who does not hear,
whose mouth can offer no defence.
In you, O Yahweh, I put my hope;
you, Lord my God, will make reply.
I said, "Do not let them gloat over me,
or exalt over me when my foot slips."
I am on the brink of falling,
and my pain is always with me.
I do indeed confess my guilt,
I am troubled by the thought of my sin.
I have many enemies, all without cause;
unprovoked, there are many who hate me,
who repay my good with evil,
and slander me when I mean good.
O Yahweh my God, do not desert me,
do not be far from me,
be quick to help me,
O Lord my Saviour.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))