Song of Solomon 5
1 I am come into my garden, my sister, [my] bride; I have plucked my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my sugar-cane with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, ye companions; drink, yea, drink abundantly, ye friends.—
Wee mwarĩ wa maitũ o wee mũhiki wakwa, nĩndoka mũgũnda-inĩ wakwa; nĩnjookanĩrĩirie manemane makwa na mahuti makwa marĩa mangĩ manungi wega. Nĩndĩĩte magua makwa, o na ũũkĩ wakwa; nĩnyuĩte ndibei yakwa, o na iria rĩakwa. Arata Inyuĩ arata-rĩ, rĩai na mũnyue; inyuĩ mwendaine-rĩ, nyuai nginya mũiganie.
2 I slept, but my heart was awake: [there was] the voice of my beloved that knocked, “Open for me, my sister, my beloved, my dove, my guiltless one; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.”
Ndĩrarĩ toro, no ngoro yakwa nĩĩreiguĩte. Ta thikĩrĩria! Mwendwa wakwa nĩararingaringa mũrango, akiugaga atĩrĩ: “Mwarĩ wa maitũ, wee mwendwa wakwa, wee ndutura yakwa, o wee wakwa ũtarĩ kaũcuuke-rĩ, hingũrĩra. Mũtwe wakwa nĩũihũgĩtio nĩ ime, njuĩrĩ yakwa ĩkaiyũra ireera rĩa ũtukũ.”
3 I have put off my coat: how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet: how shall I defile them?
Nĩndutĩte nguo yakwa ya igũrũ: no nginya ndĩmĩĩhumbe rĩngĩ? Ningĩ nĩndĩthambĩte magũrũ: no nginya ndĩmekĩre gĩko rĩngĩ?
4 My friend stretched forth his hand through the opening, and my inmost parts were moved for him.
Mwendwa wakwa araikirie guoko gwake kamwanya-inĩ ka mũrango, nayo ngoro yakwa ĩrambĩrĩria kũmwĩrirĩria.
5 I rose up myself to open for my friend; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with fluid myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
Ndĩrokĩra kũhingũrĩra mwendwa wakwa, moko makwa magĩtaataga manemane, nacio ciara ciakwa ikanyũrũrũkia manemane, nyiitĩro-inĩ ya mũrango.
6 I indeed opened for my beloved; but my beloved had vanished, and was gone: my soul had failed me while he was speaking; I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he answered me not.
Ndĩrahingũrĩire mwendwa wakwa, no mwendwa wakwa ndararĩ ho, nĩarathiĩte; Nayo ngoro yakwa ĩroorwo nĩ hinya nĩ ũndũ wake gũthiĩ. Ndĩramwethire, no ndinamuona. Ndĩramwĩtire, no ndananjĩtĩka.
7 Then found me the watchmen that walked about the city; they smote me, they wounded me: they took away my vail from me, they that watched the walls.
Arangĩri maranyona magĩthiũrũrũka itũũra-inĩ rĩu inene. Nao marahũũrire, marandihangia; marandunya nguo yakwa ya igũrũ, arangĩri acio a thingo!
8 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, what will ye tell him? that I am sick of love.—
Inyuĩ aarĩ aya a Jerusalemu, ndamwĩhĩtithia atĩrĩ: mũngĩona mwendwa wakwa-rĩ, mũkũmwĩra atĩa? Mwĩrei atĩ ndĩ mũcuce nĩ wendo.
9 What is thy friend more than another's friend, O thou fairest of women? what is thy friend more than another's friend, that thus thou adjurest us?—
Wee mũthaka gũkĩra andũ-a-nja arĩa angĩ othe-rĩ, mwendwa waku aagĩrĩte agakĩra endwa arĩa angĩ na kĩ? Mwendwa waku akĩrĩte endwa arĩa angĩ nakĩ, nĩguo ũtwĩhĩtithie ũguo?
10 My friend is white and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand.
Mwendwa wakwa nĩ mũthaka na agatunĩha, nĩekũũranĩte harĩ arũme ngiri ikũmi.
11 His head is bright as the finest gold, his locks are like waving foliage, and black as a raven.
Mũtwe wake ũhaana ta thahabu theru mũno; njuĩrĩ yake ĩrĩ na mĩkumba, na ĩkaira ta ihuru.
12 His eyes are like [those of] doves by streamlets of waters, bathed in milk, well fitted in their setting.
Maitho make mahaana ta ma ndutura ciũmbĩte tũrũũĩ-inĩ, mahaana ta mathambĩtio na iria, o ta maigĩtwo wega makaagĩrĩra ta mathaga.
13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as turrets of sweet perfumes: his lips, like lilies, dropping with fluid myrrh.
Makai make namo mahaana ta tũmĩgũnda tũtumanĩte mahuti manungi wega magĩtararĩka. Mĩromo yake no ta itoka igũita manemane.
14 His hands are like wheels of gold beset with the chrysolite: his body, an image made of ivory overlaid with sapphires.
Moko make mahaana ta thanju cia thahabu, itheecereirwo tũhiga-inĩ tũrĩa twĩtagwo thumarati; mwĩrĩ wake ũhaana ta mũguongo ũrĩa mũnyorokie, ũgemetio na yakuti ĩrĩa theru.
15 His legs are like pillars of marble, resting upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent like the cedars.
Magũrũ make matariĩ ta itugĩ cia mahiga ma mũthemba wa marimari, ihaandĩrĩirwo itina-inĩ cia thahabu ĩrĩa therie. Maũthĩ make matariĩ ta Lebanoni, agathakara ta mĩtarakwa yakuo.
16 His palate is full of sweets, and every thing in him is agreeable. This is my friend, and this is my beloved, O daughters of Jerusalem.—
Kanua gake akĩaria karĩ mũrĩo mũno; we nĩ wa kwendeka biũ. Atĩrĩrĩ, ũyũ nĩwe mwendwa wakwa, ũyũ nĩwe mũrata wakwa, inyuĩ aarĩ a Jerusalemu.
