Song of Solomon 4
1 Behold, thou are fair, my love, behold, thou are fair. Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats that lie along the side of mount Gilead.
Redzi, tu esi skaista, mana draudzene, redzi, tu esi skaista; tavas acis ir kā baložu acis aiz tava galvas apsega. Tavi mati ir kā kazu pulks, kas guļ uz Gileād kalna.
2 Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes that are newly shorn, which have come up from the washing, of which every one has twins, and none is bereaved among them.
Tavi zobi ir kā avju pulks, kas cirptas un iznāk no peldēšanas, kas visas dvīņus vedās, un neviena starp viņām nav neauglīga.
3 Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy mouth is comely. Thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind thy veil.
Tavas lūpas ir kā purpura aukla, un tava mute ir mīlīga. Tavi vaigi ir kā granātābola puses aiz tava galvas apsega.
4 Thy neck is like the tower of David built for an armory, on which there hang a thousand bucklers, all the shields of the mighty men.
Tavs kakls ir kā Dāvida tornis, kas taisīts, lai tur ieročus uzkar, kur tūkstošas priekšturamās bruņas uzkārtas, visādas stipru vīru bruņas.
5 Thy two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, which feed among the lilies.
Tavas krūtis ir kā divas jaunas stirnas, kā kalnu kazas dvīņi, kas liliju starpā ganās.
6 Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
Kad diena metās dzestra, un ēnas bēg, tad iešu pie mirru kalna un pie vīraka pakalna.
7 Thou are all fair, my love, and there is no spot in thee.
Tu esi visai skaista, mana draudzene, un pie tevis nav vainas.
8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon. Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
Nāc man līdz no Lībanus, mana brūte, nāc man līdz no Lībanus. Skaties no Amana kalna gala, no Senira un Hermona gala, no lauvu alām, no leopardu kalniem.
9 Thou have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride. Thou have ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
Tu man sirdi esi paņēmusi, mana māsa, mīļā brūte; tu man sirdi esi paņēmusi ar vienu actiņu, ar vienu kakla ķēdīti.
10 How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride! How much better is thy love than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils than all manner of spices!
Cik skaista ir tava mīlestība, mana māsa, mīļā brūte! Cik labāka ir tava mīlestība pār vīnu, un tavas eļļas smarža pār visām kvēpināmām zālēm.
11 Thy lips, O my bride, drop the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under thy tongue, and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
Tavas lūpas, ak brūte! Pil no kausētā medus; medus un piens ir apakš tavas mēles, un tava drēbju smarža ir kā Lībanus smarža.
12 A garden shut up is my sister, my bride, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Tu esi aizslēgts dārzs, mana māsa, mīļā brūte, aizslēgts avots, aizslēgta aka.
13 Thy shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, henna with spikenard plants,
Tavi zari ir kā jauks dārzs, kur granātu ābeles ar dārgiem augļiem, kovera puķes ar nardēm,
14 spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices.
Narde un safrans, kalmes un kanēlis, ar visādiem vīraka kokiem, mirres un alvejas, līdz ar vislabākām smaržīgām zālēm.
15 Thou are a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and flowing streams from Lebanon.
Tā kā dārzu aka (tu esi), kā aka ar dzīvu ūdeni, un kā strauti no Lībanus.
16 Awake, O north wind, and come, thou south, blow upon my garden, that the spices of it may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his precious fruits.
Celies, ziemeli, un nāc, dienvidu vējš, pūt pa manu dārzu, ka viņa zāles pil (smaržas no dārza augiem). Mans draugs lai nāk savā dārzā, un lai ēd savus skaistos augļus.
