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!
[[Lov.]] I am come to my garden, my sister, my spouse! I gather my myrrh with my balsam, I eat my honeycomb with my honey, I drink my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends! Drink, yea, drink abundantly, my loved companions!
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. —
[[M.]] I slept, but my heart was awake; It was the voice of my beloved, who was knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my love, My dove, my perfect 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 taken off my vest [[said I]]; How shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; How shall I soil them?”
4 Min elskede stak sin Haand igennem Aabningen, og mit Indre blev heftigt bevæget for hans Skyld.
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, And my heart was 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 to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with self-flowing myrrh, upon 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I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. I was not in my senses while he spake with me! I sought him, but could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7 Vægterne, som gaa omkring i Staden, fandt mig, de sloge mig, de saarede mig; Vægterne paa Murene toge mit Slør fra mig.
The watchmen that go about the city found me; They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away from me my veil.
8 Jeg besværger eder, I Jerusalems Døtre! om I finde min elskede, hvad skulle I forkynde ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem! If ye should find my beloved, —What will ye tell him? That 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?
[[Lad.]] What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women! What is thy beloved more than another beloved, That thus thou dost charge us?
10 Min elskede er hvid og rød, udmærket fremfor ti Tusinde.
[[M.]] My beloved is white and ruddy, The chief among ten thousand.
11 Hans Hoved er fineste Guld; hans Lokker ere krusede, sorte som Ravnen.
His head is as the most fine gold; His locks waving palm-branches, Black as a raven;
12 Hans Øjne ere som Duer ved Vandbække, badende sig i Mælk, siddende ved fulde Strømme.
His eyes are doves by streams of water, Washed with milk, dwelling in fulness;
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 a bed of balsam, Like beds of spices; His lips are lilies Dropping self-flowing myrrh;
14 hans Hænder ere Guldringe, besatte med Krysoliter; hans Bug er skinnende Elfenben, belagt med Safirer;
His hands are gold rings set with chrysolite; His body is wrought-work 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 marble pillars, resting on pedestals of fine gold; His aspect is like Lebanon, Majestic 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 mouth is sweetness; His whole being, loveliness. This is my beloved, This my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem!
