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 am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I gathered my myrrhe with my spice: I ate mine hony combe with mine hony, I dranke my wine with my milke: eate, O friends, drinke, and make you merie, O welbeloued.
2 Jeg sov, men mit hjerte våged; 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 Dråber."
I sleepe, but mine heart waketh, it is the voyce of my welbeloued that knocketh, saying, Open vnto mee, my sister, my loue, my doue, my vndefiled: for mine head is full of dewe, and my lockes with the droppes of the night.
3 Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den på? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
I haue put off my coate, howe shall I put it on? I haue washed my feete, howe shall I defile them?
4 Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Hånd, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
My welbeloued put in his hand by the hole of the doore, and mine heart was affectioned toward him.
5 Jeg stod op og åbned for min Ven; mine Hænder drypped af Myrra, mine Fingre af flydende Myrra, da de rørte ved Låsens Håndtag.
I rose vp to open to my welbeloued, and mine hands did drop downe myrrhe, and my fingers pure myrrhe vpon the handels of the barre.
6 Så lukked jeg op for min Ven, men min Ven var gået 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 welbeloued: but my welbeloued was gone, and past: mine heart was gone when hee did speake: I sought him, but I coulde not finde him: I called him, but hee answered mee not.
7 Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og såred mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
The watchmen that went about the citie, founde me: they smote me and wounded me: the watchmen of the walles tooke away my vaile from me.
8 Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre: Såfremt I finder min Ven, hvad skal I da sige til ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed!
I charge you, O daughters of Ierusalem, if you finde my welbeloued, that you tell him that I am sicke of loue.
9 "Hvad Fortrin har da, din Ven, du fagreste, blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os så?"
O the fairest among women, what is thy welbeloued more then other welbeloued? what is thy welbeloued more then another louer, that thou doest so charge vs?
10 Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
My welbeloued is white and ruddie, the chiefest of ten thousand.
11 hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
His head is as fine golde, his lockes curled, and blacke as a rauen.
12 hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
His eyes are like doues vpon the riuers of waters, which are washt with milke, and remaine by the full vessels.
13 hans Kinder som Balsambede; Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper, af flydende Myrra,
His cheekes are as a bedde of spices, and as sweete flowres, and his lippes like lilies dropping downe pure myrrhe.
14 hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
His hands as rings of gold set with the chrysolite, his belly like white yuorie couered with saphirs.
15 hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor På Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
His legges are as pillars of marble, set vpon sockets of fine golde: his countenance as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Sådan er min elskede, sådan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
His mouth is as sweete thinges, and hee is wholy delectable: this is my welbeloued, and this is my louer, O daughters of Ierusalem.
