< 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 am come into my garden, my sister, [my] bride; I have plucked my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my sugar-cane with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, ye companions; drink, yea, drink abundantly, ye friends.—
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 slept, but my heart was awake: [there was] the voice of my beloved that knocked, “Open for me, my sister, my beloved, my dove, my guiltless one; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops 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 put off my coat: how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet: how shall I defile them?
4 Min elskede stak sin Haand igennem Aabningen, og mit Indre blev heftigt bevæget for hans Skyld.
My friend stretched forth his hand through the opening, and my inmost parts were moved 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 myself to open for my friend; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with fluid myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
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 indeed opened for my beloved; but my beloved had vanished, and was gone: my soul had failed me while he was speaking; I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he answered me not.
7 Vægterne, som gaa omkring i Staden, fandt mig, de sloge mig, de saarede mig; Vægterne paa Murene toge mit Slør fra mig.
Then found me the watchmen that walked about the city; they smote me, they wounded me: they took away my vail from me, they that watched 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.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, what will ye tell him? that I am sick of 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?
What is thy friend more than another's friend, O thou fairest of women? what is thy friend more than another's friend, that thus thou adjurest us?—
10 Min elskede er hvid og rød, udmærket fremfor ti Tusinde.
My friend is white and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand.
11 Hans Hoved er fineste Guld; hans Lokker ere krusede, sorte som Ravnen.
His head is bright as the finest gold, his locks are like waving foliage, 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 [those of] doves by streamlets of waters, bathed in milk, well fitted in their setting.
13 Hans Kinder ere som duftende Blomsterbede, Taarne af vellugtende Urter; hans Læber ere som Lillier, der dryppe med flydende Myrra;
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as turrets of sweet perfumes: his lips, like lilies, dropping with fluid myrrh.
14 hans Hænder ere Guldringe, besatte med Krysoliter; hans Bug er skinnende Elfenben, belagt med Safirer;
His hands are like wheels of gold beset with the chrysolite: his body, an image made of ivory overlaid with sapphires.
15 hans Ben ere Marmorstøtter, grundfæstede i Fodstykker af Guld; hans Skikkelse er som Libanon, udvalgt som Cedertræerne;
His legs are like pillars of marble, resting upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent like 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 palate is full of sweets, and every thing in him is agreeable. This is my friend, and this is my beloved, O daughters of Jerusalem.—