Song of Solomon 2
1 I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys.
Jeg er Sarons Rose, Dalenes Lilje.
2 As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
Som en Lilje midt iblandt Torne er min Veninde blandt Piger.
3 As the apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired: and his fruit was sweet to my palate.
Som et Æbletræ blandt Skovens Træer er min Ven blandt unge Mænd. I hans Skygge har jeg Lyst til at sidde, hans Frugt er sød for min Gane.
4 He brought me into the cellar of wine, he set in order charity in me.
Til en Vinhal bragte han mig, hvor Mærket over mig er Kærlighed.
5 Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples: because I languish with love.
Styrk mig med Rosinkager, kvæg mig med Æbler, thi jeg er syg af Kærlighed.
6 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.
Hans venstre er under mit Hoved, hans højre tager mig i Favn.
7 I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and the harts of the, fields, that you stir not up, nor make the beloved to awake, till she please.
Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre, ved Gazeller og Markens Hjorte: Gør ikke Kærligheden Uro, væk den ikke, før den ønsker det selv!
8 The voice of my beloved, behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills.
Hør! Der er min Ven! Ja se, der kommer han i Løb over Bjergene, i Spring over Højene.
9 My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart. Behold he standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices.
Min Ven er som en Gazel, han er som den unge Hjort. Se, nu staar han alt bag vor Mur. Han ser gennem Vinduet, kigger gennem Gitteret.
10 Behold my beloved speaketh to me: Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come.
Min Ven stemmer i og siger saa til mig: Staa op, min Veninde, du fagre, kom!
11 For winter is now past, the rain is over and gone.
Thi nu er Vinteren omme, Regntiden svandt, for hen,
12 The flowers have appeared in our land, the time of pruning is come: the voice of the turtle is heard in our land:
Blomster ses i Landet, Sangens Tid er kommet, Turtelduens Kurren høres i vort Land;
13 The fig tree hath put forth her green figs: the vines in flower yield their sweet smell. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come:
Figentræets Smaafrugter svulmer, Vinstokken blomstrer, udspreder Duft. Staa op, min Veninde, du fagre, kom,
14 My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow places of the wall, shew me thy face, let thy voice sound in my ears: for thy voice is sweet, and thy face comely.
min Due i Fjeldets Kløfter, i Bjergvæggens Skjul! Lad mig skue din Skikkelse, høre din Røst, thi sød er din Røst og din Skikkelse yndig.
15 Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines: for our vineyard hath flourished.
Fang os de Ræve, de Ræve smaa, som hærger Vinen, vor blomstrende Vin!
16 My beloved to me, and I to him who feedeth among the lilies,
Min Ven er min, og jeg er hans, som vogter blandt Liljer;
17 Till the day break, and the shadows retire. Return: be like, my beloved, to a roe, or to a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.
til Dagen svales og Skyggerne længes, kom hid, min Ven, og vær som Gazellen, som den unge Hjort paa duftende Bjerge!
