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!
I have come to my garden, my sister-spouse, I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, Indeed, drink abundantly, O beloved ones!
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 am sleeping, but my heart wakes: The sound of my beloved knocking! “Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled [with] dew, My locks [with] 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?
I have put off my coat, how do I put it on? I have washed my feet, how do I defile them?
4 Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Haand, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
My beloved sent his hand from the network, And my bowels were moved for him.
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 to open to my beloved, And my hands dripped myrrh, Indeed, my fingers were flowing [with] myrrh, On the handles of the lock.
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 to my beloved, But my beloved withdrew—he passed on, My soul went forth when he spoke, I sought him, and did not find him. I called him, 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 watchmen who go around the city, Found me, struck me, wounded me, Keepers of the walls lifted up my veil from off 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 have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved—What do you tell him? That I [am] sick 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 [is] your beloved above [any] beloved, O beautiful among women? What [is] your beloved above [any] beloved, That thus you have adjured us?
10 Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
My beloved [is] clear and ruddy, Conspicuous above a myriad!
11 hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
His head [is] pure gold—fine gold, His locks flowing, dark as a raven,
12 hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
His eyes as doves by streams of water, Washing in milk, sitting in fullness.
13 hans Kinder som Balsambede, Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper af flydende Myrra,
His cheeks [are] as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, His lips—lilies, dripping [and] flowing [with] myrrh,
14 hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
His hands rings of gold, set with beryl, His heart bright ivory, covered with sapphires,
15 hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor Paa Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
His limbs pillars of marble, Founded on sockets of fine gold, His appearance as Lebanon, choice as the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Saadan er min elskede, saadan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
His mouth is sweetness—and all of him desirable, This [is] my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!
