Song of Songs 5
1 Let my kinsman come down into his garden, and eat the fruit of his choice berries. I am come into my garden, my sister, [my] spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spices; I have eaten my bread with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink; yes, brethren, drink abundantly.
Wee mwarĩ wa maitũ o wee mũhiki wakwa, nĩndoka mũgũnda-inĩ wakwa; nĩnjookanĩrĩirie manemane makwa na mahuti makwa marĩa mangĩ manungi wega. Nĩndĩĩte magua makwa, o na ũũkĩ wakwa; nĩnyuĩte ndibei yakwa, o na iria rĩakwa. Arata Inyuĩ arata-rĩ, rĩai na mũnyue; inyuĩ mwendaine-rĩ, nyuai nginya mũiganie.
2 I sleep, but my heart is awake: the voice of my kinsman knocks at the door, [saying], Open, open to me, my companion, my sister, my dove, my perfect one: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
Ndĩrarĩ toro, no ngoro yakwa nĩĩreiguĩte. Ta thikĩrĩria! Mwendwa wakwa nĩararingaringa mũrango, akiugaga atĩrĩ: “Mwarĩ wa maitũ, wee mwendwa wakwa, wee ndutura yakwa, o wee wakwa ũtarĩ kaũcuuke-rĩ, hingũrĩra. Mũtwe wakwa nĩũihũgĩtio nĩ ime, njuĩrĩ yakwa ĩkaiyũra ireera rĩa ũtukũ.”
3 I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?
Nĩndutĩte nguo yakwa ya igũrũ: no nginya ndĩmĩĩhumbe rĩngĩ? Ningĩ nĩndĩthambĩte magũrũ: no nginya ndĩmekĩre gĩko rĩngĩ?
4 My kinsman put forth his hand by the hole [of the door], and my belly moved for him.
Mwendwa wakwa araikirie guoko gwake kamwanya-inĩ ka mũrango, nayo ngoro yakwa ĩrambĩrĩria kũmwĩrirĩria.
5 I rose up to open to my kinsman; my hands dropped myrrh, my fingers choice myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
Ndĩrokĩra kũhingũrĩra mwendwa wakwa, moko makwa magĩtaataga manemane, nacio ciara ciakwa ikanyũrũrũkia manemane, nyiitĩro-inĩ ya mũrango.
6 I opened to my kinsman; my kinsman was gone: my soul failed at his speech: I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he answered me not.
Ndĩrahingũrĩire mwendwa wakwa, no mwendwa wakwa ndararĩ ho, nĩarathiĩte; Nayo ngoro yakwa ĩroorwo nĩ hinya nĩ ũndũ wake gũthiĩ. Ndĩramwethire, no ndinamuona. Ndĩramwĩtire, no ndananjĩtĩka.
7 The watchman that go their rounds in the city found me, they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
Arangĩri maranyona magĩthiũrũrũka itũũra-inĩ rĩu inene. Nao marahũũrire, marandihangia; marandunya nguo yakwa ya igũrũ, arangĩri acio a thingo!
8 I have charged you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and the virtues of the field: if you should find my kinsman, what are you to say to him? That I am wounded with love.
Inyuĩ aarĩ aya a Jerusalemu, ndamwĩhĩtithia atĩrĩ: mũngĩona mwendwa wakwa-rĩ, mũkũmwĩra atĩa? Mwĩrei atĩ ndĩ mũcuce nĩ wendo.
9 What is your kinsman [more] than [another] kinsman, O you beautiful amongst women? what is your kinsman [more] than [another] kinsman, that you have so charged us?
Wee mũthaka gũkĩra andũ-a-nja arĩa angĩ othe-rĩ, mwendwa waku aagĩrĩte agakĩra endwa arĩa angĩ na kĩ? Mwendwa waku akĩrĩte endwa arĩa angĩ nakĩ, nĩguo ũtwĩhĩtithie ũguo?
10 My kinsman is white and ruddy, chosen out from myriads.
Mwendwa wakwa nĩ mũthaka na agatunĩha, nĩekũũranĩte harĩ arũme ngiri ikũmi.
11 His head is [as] very fine gold, his locks are flowing, black as a raven.
Mũtwe wake ũhaana ta thahabu theru mũno; njuĩrĩ yake ĩrĩ na mĩkumba, na ĩkaira ta ihuru.
12 His eyes are as doves, by the pools of waters, washed with milk, sitting by the pools.
Maitho make mahaana ta ma ndutura ciũmbĩte tũrũũĩ-inĩ, mahaana ta mathambĩtio na iria, o ta maigĩtwo wega makaagĩrĩra ta mathaga.
13 His cheeks are as bowls of spices pouring forth perfumes: his lips are lilies, dropping choice myrrh.
Makai make namo mahaana ta tũmĩgũnda tũtumanĩte mahuti manungi wega magĩtararĩka. Mĩromo yake no ta itoka igũita manemane.
14 His hands are as turned gold set with beryl: his belly is an ivory tablet on a sapphire stone.
Moko make mahaana ta thanju cia thahabu, itheecereirwo tũhiga-inĩ tũrĩa twĩtagwo thumarati; mwĩrĩ wake ũhaana ta mũguongo ũrĩa mũnyorokie, ũgemetio na yakuti ĩrĩa theru.
15 His legs are marble pillars set on golden sockets: his form is as Libanus, choice as the cedars.
Magũrũ make matariĩ ta itugĩ cia mahiga ma mũthemba wa marimari, ihaandĩrĩirwo itina-inĩ cia thahabu ĩrĩa therie. Maũthĩ make matariĩ ta Lebanoni, agathakara ta mĩtarakwa yakuo.
16 His throat is most sweet, and altogether desirable. This is my kinsman, and this is my companion, O daughters of Jerusalem.
Kanua gake akĩaria karĩ mũrĩo mũno; we nĩ wa kwendeka biũ. Atĩrĩrĩ, ũyũ nĩwe mwendwa wakwa, ũyũ nĩwe mũrata wakwa, inyuĩ aarĩ a Jerusalemu.
