Song of Solomon 6
1 To where has your beloved gone, O beautiful among women? To where has your beloved turned, And we seek him with you?
Ɛhe na wo dɔfoɔ no korɔ mmaa ahoɔfɛfoɔ mu ahoɔfɛ? Ɛhe na wo dɔfoɔ dane faeɛ, na yɛne wo nkɔhwehwɛ no?
2 My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
Me dɔfoɔ kɔ ne turo mu, faako a pɛperɛ nkofie wɔ hɔ, ɔkɔkyinkyini turo no mu akɔboaboa sukooko ano.
3 I [am] my beloved’s, and my beloved [is] mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.
Me dɔfoɔ yɛ me dea, na me nso me wɔ no; ɔkyinkyin sukooko no mu.
4 You [are] beautiful, my friend, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.
Me dɔfoɔ, wo ho yɛ fɛ te sɛ Tirsa, wʼahoɔfɛ te sɛ Yerusalem, wosi pi te sɛ asraafoɔ a wɔretu frankaa.
5 Turn around your eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Your hair [is] as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,
Ɛnhwɛ me saa; wo ma me yɛ basaa. Wo tirinwi te sɛ mpapokuo a wɔresiane firi Gilead.
6 Your teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.
Wo se te sɛ nnwankuo a wɔatwitwa wɔn ho nwi foforɔ, a wɔfiri adwareɛ. Wɔnam mmienu mmienu na wɔn mu biara nyɛ ankonam.
7 As the work of the pomegranate [is] your temple behind your veil.
Wʼasontorɔ mu a ɛhyɛ wo nkatanimu mu te sɛ ateaa aduaba fa.
8 Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number.
Ebia na ɔyerenom yɛ aduosia, mpenafoɔ bɛyɛ aduɔwɔtwe, ne mmabaawa dodoɔ a wɔntumi nkan wɔn;
9 One is my dove, my perfect one, She [is] one of her mother, She [is] the choice one of her that bore her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her blessed, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.
nanso mʼaborɔnoma a ne ho nni asɛm da mu fua; ɔno nko ara ne ne maame babaa, ɔno na deɛ ɔwoo no no pɛ nʼasɛm. Mmabaawa hunu no no, wɔfrɛɛ no nhyira; ahemaa ne mpenafoɔ kamfoo no.
10 “Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, Beautiful as the moon—clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?”
Hwan na wapue sɛ ahemadakye yi, ɔyɛ frɔmm sɛ ɔsrane, na ɔhyerɛn sɛ owia, nʼanimuonyam te sɛ nsoromma a wɔsa so.
11 To a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see to where the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed—
Mesiane kɔɔ nnuaba pɔ mu hɔ sɛ merekɔhwehwɛ afifideɛ foforɔ a ɛwɔ bɔnhwa no mu, sɛ bobe no agu nhyerɛnne anaasɛ ateaa no ayɛ frɔmm.
12 I did not know my soul, It made me—chariots of my people Nadib.
Mʼani baa me ho so no na mʼadwene de me abɛsi me nkurɔfoɔ adehyeɛ nteaseɛnam so.
13 Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look on you. What do you see in Shulammith?
Sane wʼakyi, sane wʼakyi, Ao, Sulamit abaayewa; Sane bra, sane bra ma yɛn nhwɛ wo! Aberanteɛ: Adɛn enti na ɛsɛ sɛ mohwɛ Sulamit abaayewa sɛdeɛ mohwɛ Mahanaim asa?
