Song of Solomon 5
1 I enter my garden, my sister, my bride! I gather myrrh with my spice. I eat my honeycomb with my honey. I drink wine with my milk. Let us eat our fill of love! Let us be drunk with love!
Jeg kommer i min Have, min Søster, min Brud, jeg plukker min Myrra og Balsam, jeg spiser min Honning og Saft, jeg drikker min Vin og Mælk. Venner, spis og drik og berus jer i Kærlighed!
2 Though I was asleep, my mind was racing. I heard my love knocking, and calling out, “Please open the door, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect love. My head is soaked with dew, my hair is wet from the night mist.”
Jeg sov, men mit hjerte våged; tys, da banked min ven: "Luk op for mig, o Søster, min Veninde, min Due, min rene, thi mit Hoved er fuldt af Dug, mine Lokker af Nattens Dråber."
3 I replied, “I've already got undressed. I don't have to get dressed again, do I? I've already washed my feet. I don't have to make them dirty again, do I?”
Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den på? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
4 My love thrust his hand into the opening. Deep inside I longed for him.
Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Hånd, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
5 I got up to let my love in. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, as I grabbed the handles of the bolt.
Jeg stod op og åbned for min Ven; mine Hænder drypped af Myrra, mine Fingre af flydende Myrra, da de rørte ved Låsens Håndtag.
6 I opened up to my love, but he had left—he was gone! I was crushed as a result. I looked for him but I couldn't find him. I called him but he didn't answer.
Så lukked jeg op for min Ven, men min Ven var gået sin Vej. Jeg var ude af mig selv ved hans Ord. Jeg søgte, men fandt ham ikke, kaldte, han svared mig ikke.
7 The watchmen found me as they went through the city. They beat me, they hurt me, and stole my cloak, those watchmen of the walls.
Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og såred mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
8 Women of Jerusalem, promise me if you find my love and wonder what you should tell him, tell him I am weak with love.
Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre: Såfremt I finder min Ven, hvad skal I da sige til ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed!
9 Why is the one you love better than any other, most beautiful of women? In what way is the one you love better than any other that we should promise you that?
"Hvad Fortrin har da, din Ven, du fagreste, blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os så?"
10 My love has dazzling good looks and is very fit—better than ten thousand others!
Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
11 His head is like the finest gold, his hair is wavy and black as the raven.
hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
12 His eyes are like doves beside springs of water, washed with milk and mounted like sparkling jewels.
hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
13 His cheeks are like a flowerbed of spices that produces fragrance. His lips are like lilies, dripping with liquid myrrh.
hans Kinder som Balsambede; Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper, af flydende Myrra,
14 His arms are round bars of gold inlaid with jewels. His abdomen is like carved ivory inlaid with lapis lazuli.
hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
15 His legs are columns of alabaster set on bases of gold. He looks strong, like the mighty cedars of Lebanon.
hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor På Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
16 His mouth is the sweetest ever; he is totally desirable! This is my love, my friend, women of Jerusalem.
hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Sådan er min elskede, sådan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
