Højsangen 5
1 Jeg kommer i min Have, min Søster, min Brud, jeg plukker min Myrra og Balsam, jeg spiser min Honning og Saft, jeg drikker min Vin og Mælk. Venner, spis og drik og berus jer i Kærlighed!
Bride: May my beloved enter into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. Groom to Bride: I have arrived in my garden, O my sister, my spouse. I have harvested my myrrh, with my aromatic oils. I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, O most beloved.
2 Jeg sov, men mit Hjerte vaaged; tys, da banked min Ven: »Luk op for mig, o Søster, min Veninde, min Due, min rene, thi mit Hoved er fuldt af Dug, mine Lokker af Nattens Draaber.«
Bride: I sleep, yet my heart watches. The voice of my beloved knocking: Groom to Bride: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my immaculate one. For my head is full of dew, and the locks of my hair are full of the drops of the night.
3 Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den paa? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
Bride: I have taken off my tunic; how shall I be clothed in it? I have washed my feet; how shall I spoil them?
4 Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Haand, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
My beloved put his hand through the window, and my inner self was moved by his touch.
5 Jeg stod op og aabned for min Ven; mine Hænder drypped af Myrra, mine Fingre af flydende Myrra, da de rørte ved Laasens Haandtag.
I rose up in order to open to my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the finest myrrh.
6 Saa lukked jeg op for min Ven, men min Ven var gaaet sin Vej. Jeg var ude af mig selv ved hans Ord. Jeg søgte, men fandt ham ikke, kaldte, han svared mig ikke.
I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved. But he had turned aside and had gone away. My soul melted when he spoke. I sought him, and did not find him. I called, and he did not answer me.
7 Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og saared mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
The keepers who circulate through the city found me. They struck me, and wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me.
8 Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre: Saafremt I finder min Ven, hvad skal I da sige til ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed!
I bind you by oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, announce to him that I languish through love.
9 »Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os saa?«
Chorus to Bride: What kind of beloved is your beloved, O most beautiful among women? What kind of beloved is your beloved, so that you would bind us by oath?
10 Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
Bride: My beloved is white and ruddy, elect among thousands.
11 hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
His head is like the finest gold. His locks are like the heights of palm trees, and as black as a raven.
12 hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
His eyes are like doves, which have been washed with milk over rivulets of waters, and which reside near plentiful streams.
13 hans Kinder som Balsambede, Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper af flydende Myrra,
His cheeks are like a courtyard of aromatic plants, sown by perfumers. His lips are like lilies, dripping with the best myrrh.
14 hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
His hands are smoothed gold, full of hyacinths. His abdomen is ivory, accented with sapphires.
15 hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor Paa Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
His legs are columns of marble, which have been established over bases of gold. His appearance is like that of Lebanon, elect like the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Saadan er min elskede, saadan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
His throat is most sweet, and he is entirely desirable. Such is my beloved, and he is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
