Gàidhlig
Salm 139
Do rannsaich thu 's is aithne dhut
mise, Iehòbhah thrèin;
Mo shuidh', is m' èirigh 's aithne dhut;
's lèir dhut mo smuain an cèin.
Mo cheuman is mo laighe sìos,
do chuartaich thu gu dlùth;
Is air mo shlighean fhèin gu lèir,
's geur-fhiosrach eòlach thu.
Feuch, chan eil facal mòr no beag
no cainnt air bith am bheul,
Mun labhram siud, a Dhia nam feart,
nach aithne dhut gu lèir.
Do chuartaich thu mi air gach taobh,
romham faraon 's am dhèidh;
Do làmh tha neartmhor cumhachdach
leag thusa orm, a Dhè.
Tha 'n t-eòlas seo ro-iongantach,
is ormsa tha e cruaidh;
Cha ruig' mi air, oir tha e àrd
ra thuigsinn is ra luaidh.
Cia 'n t-àit air bith am faod mi dol
od spiorad glic, a Dhè?
Od ghnùis tha uile-lèirsinneach
cia 'n taobh a theicheas mi?
Nan rachainn suas air nèamh nan speur,
a ta thu fhèin an siud;
Nan laighinn ann an ifrinn shìos,
tha thu san ionad ud.
Air bharran sgiath na maidne fòs
nan siùbhlainn fad o làimh,
Gu iomallan na fairge mòir'
chum còmhnaidh agus tàimh;
Stiùraidh tu mi an sin, a Dhè,
led làimh tha treun an neart;
Is nìthear leat mo chumail fòs
led dheaslàimh mhòir gu beachd.
Nan abrainn, Gun dèan dorchadas
gu deimhinn m'fhalach uat;
Bidh 'n oidhche fhèin mar sholas glan
ag iadhadh orm mun cuairt.
Chan fhalaich uatsa dorchadas,
's co-shoilleir oidhch' is là;
'S ceart-ionnan dhuts' an duibhre dorch,
is solas glan nan tràth.
Oir feuch ghabh thusa sealbh gu moch
air m'àirnean is mi maoth;
'S ann leat a rinneadh m'fhalach fòs
am broinn mo mhàthar chaoimh.
Ard-mholam thu, oir 's uamhasach,
's is mìorbhaileach mo dhealbh;
Tha d'oibrean iongantach; 's is lèir
dom anam sin gu dearbh.
Tràth rinneadh mi an diamhaireachd
's a dhealbhadh mi gu ceart,
An àitean ìochdrach talmhainn shìos,
bu lèir dhut brìgh mo neirt.
Mo chiad-fhàs an-abaich gun dreach,
dod shùilean-sa bu lèir;
Mo bhuill gu h-iomlan chuireadh sìos
sgrìobht' ann ad leabhar fhèin;
Gidheadh ri aimsir is ri ùin,
do dhealbhadh iad san àm;
Air bhith dhaibh roimhe sin gun dreach
's nach robh a h-aon dhuibh ann.
'S ro-phrìseil uime sin, a Dhè,
do smuaintean uile leam;
'S ro-lìonmhor mòr rin àireamh iad,
's rin cur air cunntas cheann.
Rin àireamh 's mòr gur lìonmhoir' iad
na gainneamh mhìn na tràigh';
Air mosgladh as mo chadal dhomh,
tàim maille ruit a-ghnàth.
Marbhar an t-aingidh leat gu beachd,
O Thighearna ro-threun;
A-nis, O dhaoine fuileachdach,
imichibh uam an cèin.
Oir labhair iad ad aghaidh, Dhè,
le aing'eachd easaontais;
Is thug do naimhdean mìorunach
d'ainm naomh an dìomhanas.
Nach eil mi tabhairt fuath, a Dhia,
don dream thug dhutsa fuath?
Nach eil mi gabhail gràin don dream
ad aghaidh dh'èirich suas?
Fuath iomlan thug mi dhaibh gu beachd;
mar naimhdean nì m' am meas.
Rannsaich mi, Dhè, mo chridhe faic;
mo smuaintean feuch, dearbh mis'.
Feuch agus amhairc fhèin a bheil
sligh' aingidh olc am chlè;
Is anns an t-slighe shìorraidh chòir
gu dìreach treòraich mi.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 139
For the choirmaster. Of David. Psalm.
You examined me, O Yahweh, and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you know my thoughts from far off,
you watch when I walk or lie down,
you know all the paths that I take.
Before I have spoken a word,
O Yahweh, you know all about it.
You keep close guard, behind and before me;
you spread your hand over me.
Knowledge so great is beyond my grasp,
too high for me to attain.
Where could I go from your spirit?
Where could I flee from your face?
If I climb up to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in the grave
you are there.
If I fly on the wings of the dawn
or dwell beyond the seas,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say that the darkness will hide me
and the light become night for me,
even darkness is not dark to you
the night will be bright as the day,
for the dark is like light to you.
For you made my innermost self;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am wonderfully made.
All that you do is wonderful;
that I know very well.
Nothing about me was secret from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was formed in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes could see my embryo.
All my days were inscribed in your book
before any one of them came to be.
How mysterious, O God, are your thoughts to me;
how many there are!
More than grains of sand,
they cannot be counted;
when I lose count, I am still with you.
If only, O God, you would kill the wicked.
Violent people, keep far from me!
They speak about you blasphemously,
your enemies dismiss your thoughts.
O Yahweh, I hate those who hate you,
and loathe those who rise up against you.
I hate them with undying hatred,
and count them as my foes.
O God, examine me and know my heart,
test me, and know my anxious thoughts.
See that my way does not lead to my ruin,
and guide me on the eternal road.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))