Song of Solomon 2
1 I am a rose of Sharon, a flower of the valleys.
Abụ m okoko osisi ọhịa nke Sharọn, na okoko lili nke na-epu na ndagwurugwu.
2 As the lily-flower among the thorns of the waste, so is my love among the daughters.
E, dịka okoko lili nke na-epu nʼetiti ogwu, otu a ka ọmasịrị m dị nʼetiti ụmụ agbọghọ ndị ọzọ.
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.
Onye m hụrụ nʼanya dịka osisi apụl, nʼetiti osisi na-amị mkpụrụ nʼọhịa, mgbe e ji ya tụnyere ụmụ okorobịa ndị ọzọ. Ọ na-enye m obi ụtọ ịnọ nʼokpuru ndo ya, mkpụrụ ya dịkwa ụtọ nʼọnụ.
4 He took me to the house of wine, and his flag over me was love.
Ka ọ kpọrọ m jee nʼụlọ oriri, ka ọkọlọtọ ya nʼekpuchi m bụrụ ịhụnanya.
5 Make me strong with wine-cakes, let me be comforted with apples; I am overcome with love.
Were mkpụrụ osisi a mịkpọrọ amịkpọ gbaa m ume; werekwa mkpụrụ osisi apụl mee ka ahụ m dị ike, nʼihi na abụ m onye ịhụnanya mere ka ike gwụsịa.
6 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand is round about me.
Aka ekpe ya dị nʼokpuru isi m, aka nri ya na-ejikụ m.
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.
Unu ụmụ agbọghọ Jerusalem, eji m nne mgbada niile na nne ele ọhịa niile na-agba unu iyi sị: Unu akpọtela maọbụ mee ka ịhụnanya teta, ruo mgbe ọ masịrị ya.
8 The voice of my loved one! See, he comes dancing on the mountains, stepping quickly on the hills.
Gee ntị! Onye m hụrụ nʼanya! Lee ya ka ọ na-abịa, na-amali elu nʼelu ugwu niile, na-amafekwa nʼelu ugwu nta niile.
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.
Onye m hụrụ nʼanya yiri mgbada, o yiri nwa ele. Lee ya ka ọ na-eguzo nʼazụ mgbidi anyị, ọ na-esikwa na oghereikuku na nʼoghere dị ya na-elebata anya.
10 My loved one said to me, Get up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Onye m hụrụ nʼanya gwara m okwu sị m, “Bilie, onye ihe ya na-atọ m ụtọ, onye m mara mma, soro m.
11 For, see, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
Lee, oge oyi agafeela, udu mmiri agabigakwala.
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;
Okoko osisi epupụtala nʼala; oge eji agụ egwu eruokwala, a na-anụ abụ nduru nʼala anyị niile.
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.
Mkpụrụ osisi fiig ebidola ịmịpụta mkpụrụ ya nke mbụ, isi osisi vaịnị na-amịpụta okoko na-esiju ebe niile. Bilie, ma bịa, ọmasịrị m. Onye nke m mara mma! Bịa ka i sooro m.”
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.
Nduru m nọ nʼọgba nkume, nʼebe nzuzo nke akụkụ ugwu, gosi m ihu gị, mee ka m nụ olu gị, nʼihi na olu gị dị ụtọ, ihu gị makwara mma.
15 Take for us the foxes, the little foxes, which do damage to the vines; our vines have young grapes.
Jidenụ nkịta ọhịa, ụmụ nkịta ọhịa niile na-emebiri anyị ubi, ọ bụladị ubi vaịnị anyị na-agbawa okoko.
16 My loved one is mine, and I am his: he takes his food among the flowers.
Onye m hụrụ nʼanya bụ nke m, mụ onwe m bụkwa nke ya. Ọ na-azụ igwe atụrụ ya nʼetiti okoko urodi,
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.
tutu chi ụtụtụ abọọ mgbe onyinyo niile na-agabigakwa. Tụgharịa, onye m hụrụ nʼanya, dị ka mgbada maọbụ nwa ele nke nọ nʼelu ugwu.
