Song of Solomon 2
1 I am a rose of Sharon, a flower of the valleys.
Niĩ ndĩ ihũa rĩa Sharoni, ningĩ gĩtoka gĩa ituamba-inĩ.
2 As the lily-flower among the thorns of the waste, so is my love among the daughters.
O ta gĩtoka kĩrĩ mĩigua-inĩ-rĩ, nĩguo mwendwa wakwa atariĩ arĩ gatagatĩ ka airĩtu arĩa angĩ.
3 As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, so is my loved one among the sons. I took my rest under his shade with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
O ta mũtĩ wa mũtunda ũrĩ mĩtĩ-inĩ ya gĩthaka-rĩ, nĩguo mũnyendi atariĩ arĩ gatagatĩ ka aanake arĩa angĩ. Ngenagĩra gũikara kĩĩgunyĩ-inĩ gĩake, namo matunda make ngĩmacama njiguaga marĩ mũrĩo.
4 He took me to the house of wine, and his flag over me was love.
Nĩandoonyetie nyũmba nene ĩrĩa ĩrĩĩagĩrwo iruga, nayo bendera ĩrĩa ahaicĩtie igũrũ rĩakwa nĩ wendo.
5 Make me strong with wine-cakes, let me be comforted with apples; I am overcome with love.
Njĩkĩrai hinya na thabibũ iria nyũmithie, mũnjerũhĩrie hinya na matunda, nĩ ũndũ ndĩ mũcuce nĩ wendo.
6 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand is round about me.
Guoko gwake kwa ũmotho akũigĩte rungu rwa mũtwe wakwa, nakuo guoko gwake kwa ũrĩo gũkaahĩmbĩria.
7 I say to you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes of the field, do not let love be moved till it is ready.
Inyuĩ aarĩ a Jerusalemu, ndamwĩhĩtithia na thiiya, na mĩgoma ya thwariga cia werũ-inĩ atĩrĩ: Mũtikoimbuthũre wendo o na kana mũwarahũre, o nginya wĩrirĩrie kwarahũka guo mwene.
8 The voice of my loved one! See, he comes dancing on the mountains, stepping quickly on the hills.
Ta thikĩrĩria, ũcio nĩ mwendwa wakwa! Ta rora! Ĩĩ nĩwe ũyũ ũroka, akĩrũgaga akĩrĩire irĩma-inĩ, arooka agĩtũrũhaga tũrĩma-inĩ.
9 My loved one is like a roe; see, he is on the other side of our wall, he is looking in at the windows, letting himself be seen through the spaces.
Mwendwa wakwa ahaana ta thiiya, kana ta thwariga ĩrĩa nyanake. Ta kĩrore! Nĩwe ũũrĩa ũrũngiĩ thuutha wa rũthingo rwitũ, ararorera ndirica-inĩ, agacũthĩrĩria mĩanya-inĩ.
10 My loved one said to me, Get up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Mwendwa wakwa aaririe akĩnjĩĩra atĩrĩ, “Mũrata wakwa, o wee mũthaka, ũkĩra tũthiĩ.
11 For, see, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
Atĩrĩrĩ! Hĩndĩ ya heho nĩ thiru; nayo mbura nĩĩkĩĩte ĩgatiga kuura.
12 The flowers are come on the earth; the time of cutting the vines is come, and the voice of the dove is sounding in our land;
Nĩ hĩndĩ mahũa marakunũka thĩ; ihinda rĩa kũina nĩikinyu, mĩgambo ya ndutura nĩĩraiguuo bũrũri-inĩ witũ.
13 The fig-tree puts out her green fruit and the vines with their young fruit give a good smell. Get up from your bed, my beautiful one, and come away.
Mũkũyũ-rĩ, nĩũrutĩte ngũyũ cia mbere; mĩthabibũ ĩrĩa ĩratumũra kĩro nĩĩraruta mũtararĩko wayo wega. Ũkĩra, ũka mũrata wakwa; o wee wakwa mũthaka, ũkĩra tũthiĩ.”
14 O my dove, you are in the holes of the mountain sides, in the cracks of the high hills; let me see your face, let your voice come to my ears; for sweet is your voice, and your face is fair.
Ndutura yakwa wee ũrĩ mĩatũka-inĩ ya rwaro rwa ihinga, kũu ciĩhitho-inĩ cia hurũrũka cia irĩma, nyonia ũthiũ waku, ta reke njigue mũgambo waku; nĩ ũndũ mũgambo waku nĩ mwororo, na ũthiũ waku nĩ mũthaka.
15 Take for us the foxes, the little foxes, which do damage to the vines; our vines have young grapes.
Tũnyitĩrei mbwe, o tũbwe tũu tũnini, tũrĩa tũthũkagia mĩgũnda ya mĩthabibũ, o mĩthabibũ ĩyo iitũ ĩratumũra kĩro.
16 My loved one is mine, and I am his: he takes his food among the flowers.
Mwendwa wakwa nĩ wakwa na niĩ ndĩ wake; arĩithagia kũrĩa kũrĩ itoka.
17 Till the evening comes, and the sky slowly becomes dark, come, my loved one, and be like a roe on the mountains of Bether.
Hũndũka nginya rĩrĩa kũrĩĩrura, nacio ciĩruru ciirĩrie. Hũndũka mwendwa wakwa, tuĩka ta thiiya, kana ta thwariga nyanake, ĩrĩ irĩma-inĩ cia Betheri.
