Song of Solomon 5
1 I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink; drink freely, O beloved.
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!
2 I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
Jeg sov, men mit Hjerte vaaged; 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 Draaber.«
3 I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den paa? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
4 My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded for him.
Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Haand, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
5 I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.
Jeg stod op og aabned for min Ven; mine Hænder drypped af Myrra, mine Fingre af flydende Myrra, da de rørte ved Laasens Haandtag.
6 I opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him, but did not find him. I called, but he did not answer.
Saa lukked jeg op for min Ven, men min Ven var gaaet sin Vej. Jeg var ude af mig selv ved hans Ord. Jeg søgte, men fandt ham ikke, kaldte, han svared mig ikke.
7 I encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city. They beat me and bruised me; they took away my cloak, those guardians of the walls.
Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og saared mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
8 O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.
Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre: Saafremt I finder min Ven, hvad skal I da sige til ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed!
9 How is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another, that you charge us so?
»Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os saa?«
10 My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
11 His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
12 His eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk and mounted like jewels.
hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
13 His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
hans Kinder som Balsambede, Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper af flydende Myrra,
14 His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is an ivory panel bedecked with sapphires.
hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
15 His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor Paa Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
16 His mouth is most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Saadan er min elskede, saadan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
