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!
Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I have gathered my myrrh, with my aromatical spices: I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly 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.«
I sleep, and my heart watcheth; the voice of my beloved knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of the drops of the nights.
3 Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den paa? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
I have put off my garment, how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?
4 Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Haand, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
My beloved put his hand through the key hole, and my bowels were moved at 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 arose up to open to my beloved: my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the choicest 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 was gone. My soul melted when he spoke: I sought him, and found him not: 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 that go about the city found me: they struck me: and wounded me: the keepers of the walls took away my veil 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 adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I languish with love.
9 »Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os saa?«
What manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, O thou most beautiful among women? what manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, that thou hast so adjured us?
10 Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
My beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands.
11 hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
His head is as the finest gold: his locks as branches of palm trees, black as a raven.
12 hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
His eyes as doves upon brooks of waters, which are washed with milk, and sit beside the plentiful streams.
13 hans Kinder som Balsambede, Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper af flydende Myrra,
His cheeks are as beds of aromatical spices set by the perfumers. His lips are as lilies dropping choice myrrh.
14 hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
His hands are turned and as of gold, full of hyacinths. His belly as of ivory, set with sapphires.
15 hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor Paa Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
His legs as pillars of marble, that are set upon bases of gold. His form as of Libanus, excellent as the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Saadan er min elskede, saadan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
His throat most sweet, and he is all lovely: such is my beloved, and he is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.
