< Song of Songs 2 >
1 I am a flower of the plain, a lily of the valleys.
Meyɛ Saron nhwiren ne bɔnhwa mu sukooko.
2 As a lily among thorns, so is my companion among the daughters.
Sɛdeɛ sukooko a ɛwɔ nkasɛɛ mu teɛ no saa ara na me dɔfoɔ te wɔ mmabaawa mu.
3 As the apple among the trees of the wood, so is my kinsman among the sons. I desired his shadow, and sat down, and his fruit was sweet in my throat.
Sɛdeɛ aprɛ teɛ wɔ kwaeɛ mu nnua mu no saa ara na me dɔfoɔ teɛ wɔ mmaranteɛ mu. Sɛ metena ne nwunu mu a, menya ahomeka na nʼaba nso yɛ mʼanom dɛ.
4 Bring me into the wine house; set love before me.
Ɔde me akɔ apontoɔ ase, na mʼahyɛnsodeɛ yɛ ɔdɔ.
5 Strengthen me with perfumes, stay me with apples: for I [am] wounded with love.
Momma me bobe aba na menya ahoɔden, momma me aprɛ na ɛnnwodwo me, ɛfiri sɛ ɔdɔ ama matɔ baha.
6 His left [hand shall be] under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.
Ne nsa benkum da mʼatikɔ, na ne nsa nifa aka me afam ne bo.
7 I have charged you, you daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and by the virtues of the field, that you do not rouse or wake [my] love, until he please.
Yerusalem mmammaa, mehyɛ mo sɛ, Momfa wiram atwewa ne ɔforoteɛ nka ntam sɛ morennyane, na morenhwanyane ɔdɔ mu kɔsi ɛberɛ a ɛsɛ mu.
8 The voice of my kinsman! behold, he comes leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.
Tie! Me dɔfoɔ! Hwɛ! Ɔno na ɔreba no, ɔrehurihuri wɔ mmepɔ no so na ɔbɔ pentenkwa wɔ nkokoɔ no so.
9 My kinsman is like a roe or a young hart on the mountains of Baethel: behold, he is behind our wall, looking through the windows, peeping through the lattices.
Me dɔfoɔ te sɛ ɔtwe anaa ɔforoteɛ. Hwɛ! Ɔgyina yɛn ɔfasuo akyi, ɔhwɛ mpomma no mu, wagyene nʼani hwɛ ntokua no mu.
10 My kinsman answers, and says to me, Rise up, come, my companion, my fair one, my dove.
Me dɔfoɔ kasa kyerɛɛ me sɛ, “Sɔre, me dɔfoɔ ne mʼahoɔfɛ na bra me nkyɛn.
11 For, behold, the winter is past, the rain is gone, it has departed.
Hwɛ! Awɔberɛ atwam; na osutɔ atwam kɔ.
12 The flowers are seen in the land; the time of pruning has arrived; the voice of the turtle-dove has been heard in our land.
Nhwiren afifiri asase ani: nnwontoɔ berɛ aso. Wɔte mmorɔnoma su wɔ yɛn asase so.
13 The fig tree has put forth its young figs, the vines put forth the tender grape, they yield a smell: arise, come, my companion, my fair one, my dove; yes, come.
Borɔdɔma agu nhyerɛnne; na bobe hwa agye baabiara. Sɔre bra, me dɔfoɔ; mʼahoɔfɛ bra me nkyɛn.”
14 [You are] my dove, in the shelter of the rock, near the wall: show me your face, and cause me to hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your countenance is beautiful.
Mʼaborɔnoma a wohyɛ abotan ntokuro mu ahinta wɔ mmepɔ so, ma me nhunu wʼanim; ma mente wo nne; wo nne yɛ dɛ, na wʼanim yɛ fɛ.
15 Take us the little foxes that spoil the vines: for our vines put forth tender grapes.
Monkyekyere sakraman no mma yɛn, sakraman nketewa no a wɔsɛe bobe nturo, yɛn bobe nturo a ayɛ frɔmm no.
16 My kinsman is mine, and I am his: he feeds [his flock] among the lilies.
Me dɔfoɔ yɛ me dea, na mewɔ no; ɔhwehwɛ sukooko no mu.
17 Until the day dawn, and the shadows depart, turn, my kinsman, be you like to a roe or young hart on the mountains of the ravines.
Ɛnkɔsi sɛ adeɛ bɛkye na sunsumma bɛsene akɔ no, dane wo ho me dɔfoɔ, na yɛ sɛ ɔtwewa anaa ɔforoteɛ a ɔwɔ nkokoɔ mmɔnkyi mmɔnka no so.