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.
Mwen te vini nan jaden mwen an, sè mwen, fi a maryaj mwen an. Mwen te ranmase lami mwen ak tout fèy awomatik mwen. Mwen te manje gato myèl ak siwo myèl mwen; mwen te bwè diven mwen ak lèt mwen. Lòt Yo Manje, zanmi nou yo; bwè e vin sou ak lanmou!
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.”
Mwen t ap dòmi, men kè m t ap veye. Yon vwa! Cheri mwen an t ap frape sou pòt la: “Ouvri pou mwen, sè mwen, cheri mwen an, toutrèl mwen an, ou menm ki pafè pou mwen an! Tèt mwen mouye ak lawouze, très cheve mwen ak imidite nwit lan.
3 I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
Mwen te fin retire rad mwen; kijan pou m ta remete l ankò a? Mwen te lave pye mwen; kijan pou m ta fè vin sal yo ankò a?
4 My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded for him.
Cheri mwen an te lonje men l pase nan twou pòt la. Tout santiman kè m te leve pou li.
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.
Mwen te leve pou ouvri pou cheri mwen an. Men m te degoute menm ak lami, e dwèt mwen ak dlo lami, sou manch boulon pòt lan.
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.
Mwen te ouvri a cheri mwen an, men cheri mwen an te vire kite pou l ale! Kè m te sòti lè l te pale a. Mwen te chache li, men mwen pa t jwenn li. Mwen te rele li, men li pa t reponn mwen.
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.
Gadyen ki te fè tou vil la te twouve mwen. Yo te bat mwen. Yo te blese mwen. Jandam sou miray la te retire gwo manto mwen an.
8 O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.
“M ap avèti nou, O fi a Jérusalem yo, si nou jwenn cheri mwen an, konsa nou va di l; ke mwen malad ak lanmou.”
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?
“Ki jan cheri ki cheri ou a, sinon pi bèl pami fanm yo? Ki jan cheri ki cheri ou a, pi bon pase lòt, ke ou ta nomen non l devan nou konsa?”
10 My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
Cheri mwen an mèvèye, yon figi wouj ranpli ak sante, k ap parèt miyò pami di-mil.
11 His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
Tèt li tankou lò, lò san tach; très cheve li tankou grap rezen e nwa tankou kòbo.
12 His eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk and mounted like jewels.
Zye li tankou toutrèl akote dlo k ap koule, ki benyen nan lèt, ki monte kon bijou akote yon basen dlo.
13 His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
De bò figi li tankou yon kabann fèt ak fèy awomatik, kap poze sou yon kouch zèb santi bon. Lèv li yo se flè lis ki degoute dlo lami.
14 His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is an ivory panel bedecked with sapphires.
Men li se wondèl fèt an lò, anbeli ak bijou beril. Kò li se ivwa taye ki kouvri ak pyè safi.
15 His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
Janm li se pilye fèt an mèb blan, plase sou yon baz lò san tach; aparans li tankou chwa Liban an, kon pi bèl bwa sèd li.
16 His mouth is most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
Bouch li plen ak dousè. Li dezirab nèt. Sa se cheri mwen an, e sa se zanmi mwen an, o fi Jérusalem yo.
