Gàidhlig
Salm 44
Ler cluasan chuala sinn, a Dhè; ar sinnsir chuir an cèill Na gnìomharan a rinneadh leat, nan aimsir, fad o chèin. Led làimh mar thilg thu mach na slòigh, is iadsan chuir nan àit; Mar rinn thu air na cinnich claoidh, ach dhaibhsan thug an sàth. Oir sealbh san tìr cha d'fhuaireadh leo len claidheamh no len loinn; Cha mhò a rinn an gàirdean fhèin an teasairginn nan teinn; Ach do làmh dheas thug dhaibh a' bhuaidh, do ghàirdean neartmhor treun, Is solas glan do ghnùis', a chionn gun tug thu dhaibhsan spèis. Oir 's tusa fhèin, a Dhia nam feart, mo Thighearn is mo Rìgh; Furtachd do Iàcob òrdaich uat, is fuasgail air gun dìth. 'S ann tre do neart-sa leagar sìos na h-uile 's naimhdean dhuinn; Tred ainm-sa saltraidh sinn gu làr an dream a dh'èireas rinn. Oir as mo bhogh' cha dèan mi bun, chan fhurtachd dhomh mo lann. Ach 's tusa nàraich luchd ar fuath', or naimhdean shaor thu sinn. Air feadh an là 's ann ann an Dia a nì sinn uaill is glòir; Is d'ainm-sa fòs air feadh gach linn, àrd-mholaidh sinn gu mòr. Ach rinn thu nis ar tilgeadh dhìot, is nàraich thusa sinn; 'S a-mach ler n-armailtean 's ler feachd chan eil thu fhèin dol leinn. Gu teicheadh chuir thu sinn air ais, on nàmhaid gheur sa chath; Is luchd ar mìoruin tha dhaibh fhèin a' dèanamh creich' is sgath'. Mar chaoraich thug thu sinn nar biadh; measg chinneach sgaoileadh sinn. Reic thu do phoball fhèin gun fhiach, 's gun mheud air maoin dan cinn. Do rinn thu toibheum dhinn gu truagh dar coimhearsnaich gu lèir; Ball-fanaid do na bheil mun cuairt, 's ball-magaidh mar an ceudn'. Am measg nan Geintileach air fad, gnàth-fhacal rinn thu dhinn; 'S am measg a' phobaill anns gach àit nar n-adhbhar crathadh cinn. Tha m'amhluadh is mo mhasladh geur am fhianais fhèin a-ghnàth, Rinn nàir' is rudhadh fòs mo ghruaidh m'fhalach gu truagh gach là. 'S e sin mo chor thaobh guth an fhir a chàineas mi gu h-olc, 'S a spreigeas mi; 's a-thaobh an nàmh, 's an dìoghaltaich gu lochd. Siud uile ge do thàinig oirnn, nìor dhearmaid sinne thu; Cha d'rinn sinn breug no briseadh claon 'n aghaidh do chùmhnaint dhlùth. Cha d'aom ar n-aigne uatsa riamh, ar cridh' cha deach air cùl; Od shlighe cha do chlaon ar cos 's cha deach air seachran iùil; An ionad dhràgon ge do phronn thu sinne sìos gu làr, Is ge do dh'fhalaich thusa sinn le sgàil is dubhar bàis. Mas e gun leig sinn as ar cuimhn' ainm uasal àrd ar Dia, No gu dia eile coimheach brèig' ar làmh ma shìn sinn riamh; Nach rannsaich Dia so fhèin a-mach? oir aige tha làn-fhios Air diamhaireachd a' chridhe staigh, gach car a th'ann is cleas. Oir, air do shon-sa mharbhadh sinn, air feadh an là gu lèir, 'S mar chaoraich tha sinn air ar meas, a chasgaireadh gu geur. Mosgail; carson a choidleas tu? Dhia, fairich as do shuain; gu bràth na tilg-sa sinn a-mach, na triall-sa fada uainn. Ciod uim' am falaich thu do ghnùis? ciod uim' an dearmaid thu Ar n-àmhghar, is ar n-èiginn mhòr tha 'g iadhadh oirnn gu dlùth? Oir chrom ar n-anam sìos don ùir, ar brù ri talamh theann. Ad thròcair èirich, cuidich leinn, is furtaich oirnn san àm.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 44
For the choirmaster. Of the sons of Korah. Poem.
O God, we have heard for ourselves,
our ancestors have told us
what you did in their days,
in days long ago.
With your hand you drove out nations
and settled our forefathers;
you laid waste the nations
and made our fathers flourish.
It was not our fathers' swords that won them
the land,
nor by their arm did they win the victory.
It was your right hand, your arm,
and the light of your face,
for you loved them.
O God, you are my king
who decrees Jacob's victories;
through you we conquer our foes,
in your name we trample our enemies.
I do not trust in my bow,
it is not my sword that brings me the triumph,
for you deliver us from our foes;
you put our enemies to shame.
Our boast is always of God,
and we will praise your name for ever.
But now you have abandoned and humbled us;
you no longer march out with our armies.
You make us fall back before the foe,
and our enemies have plundered us.
You gave us up to be slaughtered like sheep;
you have scattered us among the nations.
You sold your people for a trifle
and made no profit from the sale.
You have made us the taunt of our neighbours,
the scorn and derision of those all around us.
you have made us a byword among the nations,
the peoples shake their heads at us.
All day long my disgrace confronts me,
and my face is covered with shame
at the sounds of taunts and abuse
from my foe, bent on revenge.
All this has come on us
though we had not forgotten you
or been false to the covenant;
our hearts never turned away
nor our feet strayed from your path.
But you crushed us
and made us a land for the jackals,
and covered us in deepest darkness.
If we had forgotten the name of our God
or lifted our hands to a foreign god,
would not God have found it out,
for he knows the secrets of the heart?
For your sake we face death daily;
we are set aside as sheep for slaughter.
Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep?
Rouse yourself! Do not leave us for ever.
Why do you hide your face,
forgetting our misery and oppression?
For we sink to the ground,
we lie prone in the dust.
Arise and come to our aid;
redeem us for your faithful love.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))