Here’s my rendering of Psalm 4.
But first a few thoughts about poetry and the difficulty of taking something several thousand years old and offering it in an American setting in 21st century English.
Poetry is some of our most important uses of language, but it’s also the most difficult. Nuance is everything. There’s a playfulness to poetry with words chosen not just because of what they mean, but because of how they sound. Rhyme, assonance, irony — they’re all a part of the playing. They help us feel our way into meaning rather than thinking our way into meaning.
Because of this, translation is impossible. All we have is interpretation. Since words don’t always mean what they mean elsewhere and because words in one language often carry different nuances than in other languages, a scholarly approach is pretty much the last thing you want when rendering a poem in a different language. A whole new poem must be written, one which captures the heart of the original poem, with its feelings and meanings, and offers those in the new language rather than a wooden attempt to replicate it literally.
The interpreting poet has to ask two difficult questions. Did I get the meanings and the feelings intended in the original poem? Am I communicating them in ways which convey those feelings and meanings in my own language?
This is why I think Eugene Peterson’s renderings of the Psalms are the best and most important part of The Message. He answers both questions beautifully.
He doesn’t translate. He inhabits the Psalms and then invites us into them, using language that captures American imaginations. I have sought to do the same here.
Please let me know how I did.
Psalm 4
(A David psalm. Musicians: It’s a ballad, not a rocker)
Listen up, please, God.
You’re good, even though my life isn’t.
I’m so wound up I can’t sleep.
Can you help me out?
Kindly hear my restless prayer.
“Hold on a moment,” says Yahweh,
“How long are you going to hedge your bets,
Seeking security from lies instead of from me?
It’s a damn shame.”
I should know this by now.
Yahweh listens to me. He really does.
He takes care of his servants.
In the empty time between laying down and sleeping
Let the silence go deep
Sounding out and searching your heart.
In the darkness of night
Reject the darkness within.
The heart turned from me-sized dreams
Dreams of God —
Worshiping, trusting.
Those who trust themselves, worship themselves.
They say, “The economy is in the tank.
Whose going to fix it?
Who’ll guarantee my piece of the pie?”
God, beam your best smile on us.
I know joy when I feel your joy.
That’s when all of the piece of my life
Come together.
Satisfied and at peace,
I go back to bed
Ready to sleep at last.
Rested. Content. Safe.