Gàidhlig
Salm 141
O Dhia, a ta mi 'g èigheach riut,
dèan deifir thugam fhèin;
Is tabhair èisdeachd fòs dom ghuth,
tràth ghlaodham riut am fheum.
Mar bholtrach tùis ad làthair suas,
mar sin biodh m'ùrnaigh riut;
Is togail suas mo làmh gu robh
mar 'n ìobairt fheasgair dhut.
Cuir faire air mo bheul, a Dhia;
doras mo bhèil-sa glèidh.
Gu droch-bheairt, no gu olc air bith
na aom mo chrìdh', a Dhè;
Eagal le luchd na h-aingidheachd,
gun cuirinn olc an gnìomh,
Ge milis blasd' an sògh 's an gleus,
chan ith mi fhèin maoin dhiubh.
Buaileadh am fìrean mi le smachd,
gabhaidh mi sin gu caomh;
Gabhaidh mi uaith an t-achmhasan,
mar ola phrìseil mhaoth.
Cha bhris am bualadh ud mo cheann
oir fòs thèid m'ùrnaigh suas,
Tràth bhios an aitim ud gu truagh
nan àmhghar cruaidh an sàs.
Tràth thilgear sìos air clachan cruaidh
am britheamhan gu lèir;
'N sin cluinnidh iad, oir 's milis binn,
deagh bhriathran grinn mo bhèil.
Ar cnàmhan fòs aig beul na h-uaigh'
do sgaoileadh leò le tàir,
Mar ghearrar is mar sgoiltear fiodh
na spealtan air an làr.
Ach tha mo shùilean riutsa suas,
Iehòbhah Dhia nam feart;
Na fàg-sa m'anam bochd gun treòir,
's tu fhèin mo dhòigh 's mo neart.
O teasairg mi on rib', a Dhè,
a leag iad chum mo sgrios;
'S o lìontan luchd na h-aingidheachd
a dh'fhalaich iad gun fhios.
Ach tuiteadh luchd na h-aingidheachd
nan lìontan rinneadh leò,
Am feadh bhios mise gabhail thart',
's a' tèarnadh asda beò.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 141
Psalm. Of David.
O Yahweh, I call to you, come to me quickly,
hear my voice when I call to you.
May my prayer be like incense rising before you,
my uplifted hands like the evening sacrifice.
O Yahweh, mount a guard on my mouth;
keep watch on the door of my lips.
Let not my heart be inclined to do evil,
to join in the deeds of the wicked.
I shall not share in their delights!
I would rather be struck by the just;
such is kindness.
Let him rebuke me, it is like an anointing,
my head makes it welcome.
My prayer is always against the deeds of
evil-doers;
their rulers will end being cast from the rocks,
then the wicked will know
that my words were well spoken.
They will say,
"Like the ploughman who breaks up the earth,
our bones are all strewn
at the mouth of the grave."
But my eyes are turned towards you,
O Lord Yahweh;
you are my refuge, do not leave me to die.
Save me from snares,
from the traps of the wicked.
Let the wicked all fall
into their own nets, while I pass by safely.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))