Højsangen 6
1 Hvor er din Ven gået hen, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvor har din ven vendt sig hen? Vi vil søge ham med dig.
Whither is thy friend gone, O fairest of women? whither hath thy friend turned himself? that we may seek him with thee?—
2 Min Ven gik ned i sin Have, ti lBalsambedene, for at vogte sin Hjord i Haverne og sanke Liljer.
My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3 Jeg er min Vens, og min Ven er min, han, som vogter blandt Liljer.
I am my friend's, and my friend is mine: he that feedeth among the lilies.—
4 Du er fager, min Veninde, som Tirza, yndig som Jerusalem, frygtelig som Hære under Banner.
Thou art beautiful, O my beloved, like Thirzah, comely like Jerusalem, terrible as armies encamped round their banners.
5 Vend dine Øjne fra mig, de forvirrer mig så! Dit Hår er som en Gedeflok, bølgende ned fra Gilead.
Turn away thy eyes from me, for they have excited me: thy hair is like a flock of goats that come quietly down from mount Gil'ad.
6 dine Tænder som en Fåreflok, der kommer fra Bad, som alle har Tvillinger, intet er uden Lam;
Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young.
7 din Tinding er et bristet Granatæble bag ved dit Slør.
Like the half of the pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail.
8 Dronningernes Tal er tresindstyve, Medhustruernes firsindstyve, på Terner er der ej Tal.
Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines, and the young women without number;
9 Men een er hun, min Due, min rene, hun, sin Moders eneste, hun, sin Moders Kælebarn. Blev hun set af Piger, fik hun Pris, af Dronninger og Medhustruer Hyldest.
But one alone is my dove, my guiltless one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the chosen of her that bore her: maidens see her, and call her happy; yea, queens and concubines, and praise her.
10 Hvo er hun, der titter frem som Morgenrøden, fager som Månen, skær som Solen, frygtelig som Hære under Banner?
Who is this that shineth forth like the morning-dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as armies encamped round their banners?
11 Jeg gik ned i Nøddehaven for at se, hvor det grønnes i Dale for at se, om Vintræet skød, om Granattræet nu stod i Blomst.
Into the nut-garden was I gone down, to look about among the plants of the valley, to see whether the vine had blossomed, whether the pomegranates had budded.
12 Før jeg vidste af det, satte min Sjæl mig på mit ædle Folks Vogne.
I knew not [how it was], my soul made me [like] the chariots of my noble people.
13 Vend dig, vend dig, Sulamit, vend dig, vend dig, så vi kan se dig!"Hvad vil I se på Sulamit, mens Sværddansen trædes?"
Return, return, O Shulammith; return, return, that we may look upon thee. “What will ye see in the Shulammith?” As though it were the dance of a double company.
