Song of Solomon 5
1 Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I have gathered my myrrh, with my aromatical spices: I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved.
«Ja, eg kjem til min hage, mi syster, mi brur, min myrra og balsam eg plukkar, mitt brød og min honning eg et og drikk min vin og mi mjølk. Ete lagsbrør, drikk dykkar nøgd, vener.»
2 I sleep, and my heart watcheth; the voice of my beloved knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is full of dew, and my locks of the drops of the nights.
«Eg låg og sov. Men mitt hjarta vakte, høyr! Der bankar min ven: Mi syster, min hugnad, lat upp, du mi duva, mi frægd! Mitt hovud er vått, av nattedogg lokkarne dryp.»
3 I have put off my garment, how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?
«Eg hev teke av meg kjolen, skal eg klæda på meg att? Eg hev tvege mine føter, skal eg sulka deim til att?»
4 My beloved put his hand through the key hole, and my bowels were moved at his touch.
Min ven rette handi gjenom loka inn, då kløkktest mitt hjarta for hans skuld.
5 I arose up to open to my beloved: my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the choicest myrrh.
So reis eg upp, vilde opna for min ven, av handi mi myrra det draup, av fingrarne rennande myrra det flaut og på dørlåset rann.
6 I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved: but he had turned aside, and was gone. My soul melted when he spoke: I sought him, and found him not: I called, and he did not answer me.
So opna eg døri for min ven - då venen var kvorven burt. Og hugsprengd eg tenkte på hans ord. Eg søkte, men ikkje honom fann. Eg ropa på han, men ikkje gav han svar.
7 The keepers that go about the city found me: they struck me: and wounded me: the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
Meg vaktaran’ møtte som i byen sveiv, dei meg slo, gav meg sår, og sløret ifrå meg dei tok, vaktaran’ på murom.
8 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I languish with love.
Eg hjarteleg bed dykk, Jerusalems døtter, um de skulde finna min ven, - ja, kva skal de honom segja? - At sjuk av kjærleik eg er.
9 What manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, O thou most beautiful among women? what manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, that thou hast so adjured us?
«Kva er din ven framom andre vener, du fagraste dros? Kva er din ven framum andre, når du naudbed oss so?»
10 My beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands.
«Min ven er ljosleitt og raud, utmerkt framum ti tusund.
11 His head is as the finest gold: his locks as branches of palm trees, black as a raven.
Hovudet skiraste gull, palmegreiner er lokkarn’, svarte som ein ramn.
12 His eyes as doves upon brooks of waters, which are washed with milk, and sit beside the plentiful streams.
Augo som duvor ved rennande å, dei som laugar seg i mjølk ved braddfull sjø.
13 His cheeks are as beds of aromatical spices set by the perfumers. His lips are as lilies dropping choice myrrh.
Kinni som balsam-sengjer, som dåmurt-skrin. Lipporne liljor, som dryp av rennande myrra.
14 His hands are turned and as of gold, full of hyacinths. His belly as of ivory, set with sapphires.
Henderne teiner av gull med krysolitar sette, midja av filsbein med safirar prydd.
15 His legs as pillars of marble, that are set upon bases of gold. His form as of Libanus, excellent as the cedars.
Føterne marmor-stolpar på fine gull-stettar. Som Libanon er han å sjå, som ein ceder traust.
16 His throat most sweet, and he is all lovely: such is my beloved, and he is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.
Hans munn er søt, hugnad er han all. Slik er venen og felagen min, de Jerusalems døtter.»
