Højsangen 5
1 Jeg er kommen, min Søster, o Brud! i min Have, jeg har plukket min Myrra tillige med min duftende Urt, jeg har ædt min Honningkage tillige med min Honning, jeg har drukket min Vin tillige med min Mælk; æder, I Venner! drikker og bliver drukne, I elskelige!
I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride; 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, and drink; drink freely, O beloved.
2 Jeg sov, men mit Hjerte vaagede. Min elskedes Røst! Han banker: Luk op for mig, min Søster! min Veninde! min Due! min rene! thi mit Hoved er fuldt af Dug, mine Lokker af Nattens Draaber. —
I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
3 Jeg har afført mig min Kjortel; hvorledes skal jeg iføre mig den igen? jeg har toet mine Fødder; hvorledes skal jeg gøre dem urene igen?
I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
4 Min elskede stak sin Haand igennem Aabningen, og mit Indre blev heftigt bevæget for hans Skyld.
My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded for him.
5 Da stod jeg op for at lukke op for min elskede; og mine Hænder dryppede med Myrra og mine Fingre med flydende Myrra over Haandfangene paa Laasen.
I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.
6 Jeg lukkede op for min elskede, men min elskede havde vendt sig bort, han var gaaet forbi; jeg var gaaet ud af mig selv, da han talte; jeg ledte efter ham, men fandt ham ikke; jeg kaldte ad ham, men han svarede mig ikke.
I opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him, but did not find him. I called, but he did not answer.
7 Vægterne, som gaa omkring i Staden, fandt mig, de sloge mig, de saarede mig; Vægterne paa Murene toge mit Slør fra mig.
I encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city. They beat me and bruised me; they took away my cloak, those guardians of the walls.
8 Jeg besværger eder, I Jerusalems Døtre! om I finde min elskede, hvad skulle I forkynde ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed.
O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.
9 Hvad er din elskede fremfor en andens elskede, du dejligste iblandt Kvinderne? hvad er din elskede fremfor en andens elskede, at du har saaledes besvoret os?
How is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another, that you charge us so?
10 Min elskede er hvid og rød, udmærket fremfor ti Tusinde.
My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
11 Hans Hoved er fineste Guld; hans Lokker ere krusede, sorte som Ravnen.
His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
12 Hans Øjne ere som Duer ved Vandbække, badende sig i Mælk, siddende ved fulde Strømme.
His eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk and mounted like jewels.
13 Hans Kinder ere som duftende Blomsterbede, Taarne af vellugtende Urter; hans Læber ere som Lillier, der dryppe med flydende Myrra;
His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
14 hans Hænder ere Guldringe, besatte med Krysoliter; hans Bug er skinnende Elfenben, belagt med Safirer;
His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is an ivory panel bedecked with sapphires.
15 hans Ben ere Marmorstøtter, grundfæstede i Fodstykker af Guld; hans Skikkelse er som Libanon, udvalgt som Cedertræerne;
His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødhed, og han er lutter Yndighed; dette er min elskede, og dette er min Ven, I Jerusalems Døtre!
His mouth is most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
