Song of Solomon 5
1 Bride: May my beloved enter into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. Groom to Bride: I have arrived in my garden, O my sister, my spouse. I have harvested my myrrh, with my aromatic oils. I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, O most beloved.
Jeg er kommet til min have, min søster, min brud! Jeg har plukket min myrra og min balsam, jeg har ett min honningkake og min honning, jeg har drukket min vin og min melk. Et, venner, og drikk! Drikk eder lystige, mine elskede!
2 Bride: I sleep, yet my heart watches. The voice of my beloved knocking: Groom to Bride: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my immaculate one. For my head is full of dew, and the locks of my hair are full of the drops of the night.
Jeg sover, men mitt hjerte våker; da lyder min elskedes røst - han banker på: Lukk op for mig, min søster, min venninne, min due, du rene! For mitt hode er fullt av dugg, mine lokker av nattens dråper.
3 Bride: I have taken off my tunic; how shall I be clothed in it? I have washed my feet; how shall I spoil them?
Jeg sa: Jeg har tatt av mig min kjortel, skulde jeg da ta den på igjen? Jeg har tvettet mine føtter, skulde jeg da skitne dem til?
4 My beloved put his hand through the window, and my inner self was moved by his touch.
Min elskede rakte sin hånd inn gjennem luken; da blev mitt hjerte rørt for hans skyld.
5 I rose up in order to open to my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the finest myrrh.
Jeg stod op for å lukke op for min elskede, og mine hender dryppet av myrra, mine fingrer av flytende myrra, som vætte låsens håndtak.
6 I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved. But he had turned aside and had gone away. My soul melted when he spoke. I sought him, and did not find him. I called, and he did not answer me.
Jeg lukket op for min elskede, men min elskede hadde vendt om og gått bort; min sjel var ute av sig selv over hans ord; jeg lette efter ham, men fant ham ikke; jeg ropte på ham, men han svarte mig ikke.
7 The keepers who circulate through the city found me. They struck me, and wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me.
Vekterne, som går omkring i byen, møtte mig, de slo mig, de såret mig; de tok mitt slør fra mig, vekterne på murene.
8 I bind you by oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, announce to him that I languish through love.
Jeg ber eder inderlig, I Jerusalems døtre! Om I finner min elskede, hvad skal I si ham? - At jeg er syk av kjærlighet.
9 Chorus to Bride: What kind of beloved is your beloved, O most beautiful among women? What kind of beloved is your beloved, so that you would bind us by oath?
Hvad er din elskede fremfor andre elskede, du fagreste blandt kvinner, hvad er din elskede fremfor andre elskede, siden du ber oss så inderlig?
10 Bride: My beloved is white and ruddy, elect among thousands.
Min elskede er hvit og rød, utmerket fremfor ti tusen.
11 His head is like the finest gold. His locks are like the heights of palm trees, and as black as a raven.
Hans hode er som det fineste gull; hans lokker er kruset, sorte som ravnen.
12 His eyes are like doves, which have been washed with milk over rivulets of waters, and which reside near plentiful streams.
Hans øine er som duer ved rinnende bekker; de bader sig i melk, de hviler i sin ramme.
13 His cheeks are like a courtyard of aromatic plants, sown by perfumers. His lips are like lilies, dripping with the best myrrh.
Hans kinner er som velluktende blomstersenger, som det vokser krydderurter i; hans leber er som liljer, de drypper av flytende myrra.
14 His hands are smoothed gold, full of hyacinths. His abdomen is ivory, accented with sapphires.
Hans hender er gullringer med innlagte krysolitter, hans midje er et kunstverk av elfenben, dekket med safirer.
15 His legs are columns of marble, which have been established over bases of gold. His appearance is like that of Lebanon, elect like the cedars.
Hans ben er marmorstøtter, som står på fotstykker av fineste gull; hans skikkelse er som Libanon, herlig som sedrene.
16 His throat is most sweet, and he is entirely desirable. Such is my beloved, and he is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
Hans gane er sødme, og alt ved ham er liflighet. Slik er min elskede, slik er min venn, I Jerusalems døtre!
