Song of Solomon 6
1 Whither is thy friend gone, O fairest of women? whither hath thy friend turned himself? that we may seek him with thee?—
Hvor er din Ven gaaet hen, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvor har din Ven vendt sig hen? Vi vil søge ham med dig.
2 My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
Min Ven gik ned i sin Have, til Balsambedene, for at vogte sin Hjord i Haverne og sanke Liljer.
3 I am my friend's, and my friend is mine: he that feedeth among the lilies.—
Jeg er min Vens, og min Ven er min, han, som vogter blandt Liljer.
4 Thou art beautiful, O my beloved, like Thirzah, comely like Jerusalem, terrible as armies encamped round their banners.
Du er fager, min Veninde, som Tirza, yndig som Jerusalem, frygtelig som Hære under Banner.
5 Turn away thy eyes from me, for they have excited me: thy hair is like a flock of goats that come quietly down from mount Gil'ad.
Vend dine Øjne fra mig, de forvirrer mig saa! Dit Haar er som en Gedeflok, bølgende ned fra Gilead,
6 Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young.
dine Tænder som en Faareflok, der kommer fra Bad, som alle har Tvillinger, intet er uden Lam;
7 Like the half of the pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail.
din Tinding er et bristet Granatæble bag ved dit Slør.
8 Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines, and the young women without number;
Dronningernes Tal er tresindstyve, Medhustruernes firsindstyve, paa Terner er der ej Tal.
9 But one alone is my dove, my guiltless one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the chosen of her that bore her: maidens see her, and call her happy; yea, queens and concubines, and praise her.
Men een er hun, min Due, min rene, hun, sin Moders eneste, hun, sin Moders Kælebarn. Blev hun set af Piger, fik hun Pris, af Dronninger og Medhustruer Hyldest.
10 Who is this that shineth forth like the morning-dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as armies encamped round their banners?
Hvo er hun, der titter frem som Morgenrøden, fager som Maanen, skær som Solen, frygtelig som Hære under Banner?
11 Into the nut-garden was I gone down, to look about among the plants of the valley, to see whether the vine had blossomed, whether the pomegranates had budded.
Jeg gik ned i Nøddehaven for at se, hvor det grønnes i Dale, for at se, om Vintræet skød, om Granattræet nu stod i Blomst.
12 I knew not [how it was], my soul made me [like] the chariots of my noble people.
Før jeg vidste af det, satte min Sjæl mig paa mit ædle Folks Vogne.
13 Return, return, O Shulammith; return, return, that we may look upon thee. “What will ye see in the Shulammith?” As though it were the dance of a double company.
Vend dig, vend dig, Sulamit, vend dig, vend dig, saa vi kan se dig! »Hvad vil I se paa Sulamit, mens Sværddansen trædes?«
