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] bride; I have plucked my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my sugar-cane with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, ye companions; drink, yea, drink abundantly, ye friends.—
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 slept, but my heart was awake: [there was] the voice of my beloved that knocked, “Open for me, my sister, my beloved, my dove, my guiltless one; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops 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 have put off my coat: how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet: how shall I defile them?
4 Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Hånd, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
My friend stretched forth his hand through the opening, and my inmost parts were moved for 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 up myself to open for my friend; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with fluid myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
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 indeed opened for my beloved; but my beloved had vanished, and was gone: my soul had failed me while he was speaking; I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he answered me not.
7 Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og såred mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
Then found me the watchmen that walked about the city; they smote me, they wounded me: they took away my vail from me, they that watched the walls.
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 adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, what will ye tell him? that I am sick of love.—
9 "Hvad Fortrin har da, din Ven, du fagreste, blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os så?"
What is thy friend more than another's friend, O thou fairest of women? what is thy friend more than another's friend, that thus thou adjurest us?—
10 Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
My friend is white and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand.
11 hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
His head is bright as the finest gold, his locks are like waving foliage, and black as a raven.
12 hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
His eyes are like [those of] doves by streamlets of waters, bathed in milk, well fitted in their setting.
13 hans Kinder som Balsambede; Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper, af flydende Myrra,
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as turrets of sweet perfumes: his lips, like lilies, dropping with fluid myrrh.
14 hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
His hands are like wheels of gold beset with the chrysolite: his body, an image made of ivory overlaid with sapphires.
15 hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor På Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
His legs are like pillars of marble, resting upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent like the cedars.
16 hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Sådan er min elskede, sådan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
His palate is full of sweets, and every thing in him is agreeable. This is my friend, and this is my beloved, O daughters of Jerusalem.—
