نَشِيد الأنشاد 5

١ 1 (المُحِبُّ): قَدْ جِئْتُ إِلَى جَنَّتِي يَا أُخْتِي، يَا عَرُوسِي، وَقَطَفْتُ مُرِّي مَعَ أَطْيَابِي، وَأَكَلْتُ شَهْدِي مَعَ عَسَلِي، وَشَرِبْتُ خَمْرِي مَعَ لَبَنِي. (بَنَاتُ أُورُشَلِيمَ): كُلُوا أَيُّهَا الْخُلّانُ. اشْرَبُوا حَتَّى الانْتِشَاءِ أَيُّهَا المُحِبُّونَ.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.

٢ 2 (الْمَحْبُوبَةُ): قَدْ نِمْتُ وَلَكِنَّ قَلْبِي كَانَ مُسْتَيْقِظاً. آهِ، اسْمَعُوا! هَا صَوْتُ حَبِيبِي قَارِعاً قَائِلاً: افْتَحِي لِي يَا أُخْتِي، يَا حَبِيبَتِي، يَا حَمَامَتِي، يَا كَامِلَتِي! فَإِنَّ رَأْسِي قَدِ ابْتَلَّ مِنَ النَّدَى وَشَعْرِي مِنْ طَلِّ اللَّيْلِ.

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

٣ 3 فَقُلْتُ: قَدْ خَلَعْتُ ثَوْبِي فَكَيْفَ أَرْتَدِيهِ ثَانِيَةً؟ غَسَلْتُ قَدَمَيَّ فَكَيْفَ أُوَسِّخُهُمَا؟

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

٤ 4 مَدَّ حَبِيبِي يَدَهُ مِنْ كُوَّةِ الْبَابِ، فَتَحَرَّكَتْ لَهُ مَشَاعِرِي،

My beloved put his hand through the opening of the door, and my heart was moved for him.

٥ 5 فَنَهَضْتُ لأَفْتَحَ لَهُ بِيَدَيْنِ تَقْطُرَانِ مُرّاً، وَأَصَابِعَ تَفِيضُ عِطْراً عَلَى مِزْلاجِ الْبَابِ.

I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands flowed with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

٦ 6 فَتَحْتُ لِحَبِيبِي، لَكِنَّ حَبِيبِي كَانَ قَدِ انْصَرَفَ وَعَبَرَ فَفَارَقَتْنِي نَفْسِي حِينَ ابْتَعَدَ. بَحَثْتُ عَنْهُ فَلَمْ أَجِدْهُ، دَعَوْتُهُ فَلَمْ يُجِبْ.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spoke: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

٧ 7 وَجَدَنِي الْحُرَّاسُ الْمُتَجَوِّلُونَ فِي الْمَدِينَةِ، فَانْهَالُوا عَلَيَّ ضَرْباً فَجَرَحُونِي. نَزَعَ حُرَّاسُ الأَسْوَارِ رِدَائِي عَنِّي.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

٨ 8 أَسْتَحْلِفُكُنَّ يَا بَنَاتِ أُورُشَلِيمَ إِنْ وَجَدْتُنَّ حَبِيبِي أَنْ تُبَلِّغْنَهُ أَنِّي مَرِيضَةٌ حُبّاً.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick with love.

٩ 9 (بَنَاتُ أُورُشَلِيمَ): بِمَ يَفُوقُ حَبِيبُكِ الْمُحِبِّينَ أَيَّتُهَا الْجَمِيلَةُ بَيْنَ النِّسَاءِ؟ بِمَ يَفُوقُ حَبِيبُكِ الْمُحِبِّينَ حَتَّى تَسْتَحْلِفِينَا هَكَذَا؟

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

١٠ 10 (الْمَحْبُوبَةُ): حَبِيبِي مُتَأَلِّقٌ وَأَحْمَرُ، مُتَمَيِّزٌ بَيْنَ الآلَافِ.

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chief among ten thousand.

١١ 11 رَأْسُهُ ذَهَبٌ خَالِصٌ وَشَعْرُهُ مُتَمَوِّجٌ حَالِكُ السَّوَادِ كَلَوْنِ الْغُرَابِ.

His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.

١٢ 12 عَيْنَاهُ حَمَامَتَانِ عِنْدَ مَجَارِي الْمِيَاهِ، مَغْسُولَتَانِ مُسْتَقِرَّتَانِ فِي مَوْضِعِهِمَا.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

١٣ 13 خَدَّاهُ كَخَمِيلَةِ طِيبٍ تَفُوحَانِ عِطْراً، وَشَفَتَاهُ كَالسَّوْسَنِ تَقْطُرَانِ مُرّاً شَذِيّاً.

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

١٤ 14 يَدَاهُ حَلَقَتَانِ مِنْ ذَهَبٍ مُدَوَّرَتَانِ وَمُرَصَّعَتَانِ بِالزَّبَرْجَدِ، وَجِسْمُهُ عَاجٌ مَصْقُولٌ مُغَشّىً بِالْيَاقُوتِ الأَزْرَقِ.

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.

١٥ 15 سَاقَاهُ عَمُودَا رُخَامٍ قَائِمَتَانِ عَلَى قَاعِدَتَيْنِ مِنْ ذَهَبٍ نَقِيٍّ، طَلْعَتُهُ كَلُبْنَانَ، كَأَبْهَى أَشْجَارِ الأَرْزِ.

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

١٦ 16 فَمُهُ عَذْبٌ، وَكُلُّهُ مُشْتَهَيَاتٌ. هَذَا هُوَ حَبِيبِي وَهَذَا هُوَ خَلِيلِي يَا بَنَاتِ أُورُشَلِيمَ!

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.