Højsangen 7
1 Hvor skønne er dine Trin i Skoene, du ædelbaarne! Dine Hofters Runding er som Halsbaand, Kunstnerhaands Værk,
[[Lov.]] How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince's daughter! The roundings of thy hips are like neck ornaments, The work of the hands of the artificer;
2 dit Skød som det runde Bæger, ej savne det Vin, dit Liv som en Hvededynge, hegnet af Liljer;
Thy navel is like a round goblet, that wanteth not the spiced wine; Thy belly like a heap of wheat, inclosed with lilies;
3 dit Bryst som to Hjortekalve, Gazelletvillinger,
Thy two breasts are like two young twin gazelles;
4 din Hals som Elfenbenstaarnet, dine Øjne som Hesjbons Damme ved Bat-Rabbims Port, din Næse som Libanons Taarn, der ser mod Damaskus,
Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; Thine eyes are like the pools at Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim; Thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus;
5 Hovedet paa dig som Karmel, dit Hoveds Lokker som Purpur; en Konge er fanget i Garnet.
Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, And the hair of thy head like purple; The king is captivated by thy locks.
6 Hvor er du fager og yndig, du elskede, yndefulde!
How fair, how pleasant art thou, love, in delights!
7 Som Palmen, saa er din Vækst, dit Bryst som Klaser.
This thy stature is like the palm-tree, And thy breasts like clusters of dates.
8 Jeg tænker: Jeg vil op i Palmen, gribe fat i dens Stilke; dit Bryst skal være som Vinstokkens Klaser, din Næses Aande som Æbleduft,
I will go up, say I to myself, upon the palm-tree; I will take hold of its boughs, And thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy nose like apples,
9 din Gane som ædel Vin, der liflig flyder ind i min Mund, glider over mine Læber og Tænder.
And thy mouth like the best wine— [[M.]] — that goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Flowing over the lips of them that sleep.
10 Jeg er min Vens, og til mig staar hans Attraa.
I am my beloved's, And his desire is toward me.
11 Kom min Ven, vi vil ud paa Landet, blive i Landsbyer Natten over;
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the country; Let us lodge in the villages!
12 Vingaarde søger vi aarle, vi ser, om Vinstokken skyder, om Knopperne aabnes, Granattræet blomstrer. Der giver jeg dig min Kærlighed.
Then will we go early to the vineyards, To see whether the vine putteth forth, Whether its blossom openeth, And the pomegranates bud forth; There will I give thee my love!
13 Kærlighedsæblerne dufter, for vor Dør er al Slags Frugt, ny og gammel tillige; til dig, min Ven, har jeg gemt dem.
The love-apples give forth fragrance; And at our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, new and old: I have kept them for thee, my beloved!
