Bíbélì Mímọ́ Yorùbá Òde Òn

Saamu 88

Orin. Saamu ti àwọn ọmọ Kora. Fún adarí orin. Gẹ́gẹ́ bí ti mahalati leannoti. Maskili ti Hemani ará Esra.

1Olúwa, Ọlọ́run tí ó gbà mí là,
    ní ọ̀sán àti ní òru ni mo kígbe sókè sí Ọ.
Jẹ́ kí àdúrà mi kí ó wá sí iwájú rẹ;
    dẹ etí rẹ sí igbe mi.

Nítorí ọkàn mi kún fún ìpọ́njú
    ọkàn mi sì súnmọ́ isà òkú.
A kà mí mọ́ àwọn tí wọ́n lọ sí ọ̀gbun ilẹ̀
    èmi dàbí ọkùnrin tí kò ni agbára.
A yà mí sọ́tọ̀ pẹ̀lú àwọn òkú
    bí ẹni tí a pa tí ó dùbúlẹ̀ ní ipò ikú,
ẹni tí ìwọ kò rántí mọ́,
    ẹni tí a gé kúrò lára àwọn tí ìwọ ń tọ́jú.

Ìwọ tí ó fi mí sí kòtò jíjìn,
    ní ibi ọ̀gbun tó ṣókùnkùn.
Ìbínú rẹ ṣubú lé mi gidigidi;
    ìwọ ti fi àwọn ìjì rẹ borí mi.
Ìwọ tí gba ọ̀rẹ́ mi tí ó súnmọ́ mi kúrò lọ́wọ́ mi
    ìwọ sì sọ mi di ìríra sí wọn.
A há mi mọ́, èmi kò sì le è jáde;
Ojú mi káàánú nítorí ìpọ́njú.

    Mo kígbe pè ọ́, Olúwa, ní gbogbo ọjọ́;
mo na ọwọ́ mi jáde sí ọ.
10 Ìwọ ó fi iṣẹ́ ìyanu rẹ hàn fún òkú bi?
    Àwọn òkú yóò ha dìde láti yìn ọ́ bí?
11 A ó ha fi ìṣeun ìfẹ́ rẹ hàn ní ibojì bí:
    Tàbí òtítọ́ rẹ ní ipò ìparun?
12 A ha lè mọ iṣẹ́ ìyanu rẹ ní òkùnkùn bí
    àti òdodo rẹ ní ilẹ̀ ìgbàgbé?

13 Ṣùgbọ́n mo kígbe sí ọ fún ìrànlọ́wọ́, Olúwa;
    ní òwúrọ̀ ni àdúrà mí wá sọ́dọ̀ rẹ.
14 Olúwa, èéṣe tí ìwọ fi kọ̀ mí
    tí ìwọ fi ojú rẹ pamọ́ fún mi?

15 Láti ìgbà èwe mi, ìṣẹ́ ń ṣẹ́ mi,
    èmi múra àti kú;
nígbà tí ẹ̀rù rẹ bá ń bà mí,
    èmi di gbére-gbère
16 Ìbínú rẹ ti kọjá lára mi;
    ìbẹ̀rù rẹ ti gé mi kúrò
17 Ní gbogbo ọjọ́ ni wọn yí mi ká bí ìkún omi;
    wọ́n mù mí pátápátá.
18 Ìwọ ti mú ọ̀rẹ́ àti olùfẹ́ mi kúrò lọ́dọ̀ mi;
    òkùnkùn sì jẹ́ ọ̀rẹ́ tímọ́tímọ́ mi.

The Message

Psalm 88

A Korah Prayer of Heman

11-9 God, you’re my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I’m in.
I’ve had my fill of trouble;
    I’m camped on the edge of hell.
I’m written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I’m a black hole in oblivion.
You’ve dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I’m battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I’m caught in a maze and can’t find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

13-18 I’m standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I’ve been hurting;
    I’ve taken the worst you can hand out, and I’ve had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I’m bleeding, black-and-blue.
You’ve attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I’m nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.