Verzen

Psalm 41 vers 3

My enemies, with hatred fierce and grim,
all whisper in disdain,
“Some deadly sickness has its grip on him;
he will not rise again.”
One of my dearest friends, who had my trust,
with whom I shared my bread,
lifts up his heel against me, like the rest,
and wishes I were dead.

Berijmingen / Talen

Datheen   |  Revius   |  1773   |  1967   |  GKV   |  Meeuse   |  DNP   |  Engels   |  Duits 1   |  Duits 2   |  Frans   |  Spaans   |  Afrikaans