Song of Solomon 7
1 As the chorus of “Mahanaim.” How beautiful were your feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of your sides [are] as ornaments, Work of the hands of a craftsman.
Hvor skønne er dine Trin i Skoene, du ædelbårne! Dine Hofters Runding er som Halsbånd, Kunstnerhånds Værk,
2 Your waist [is] a basin of roundness, It does not lack the mixture, Your body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
dit Skød som det runde Bæger, ej savne det Vin, dit Liv som en Hvededynge, hegnet af Liljer;
3 Your two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
dit Bryst som to Hjortekalve, Gazelletvillinger,
4 Your neck as a tower of the ivory, Your eyes pools in Heshbon, near the Gate of Bath-Rabbim, Your face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,
din Hals som Elfenbenstårnet, dine Øjne som Hesjbons damme ved Bat-Rabbims Port, din Næse som Libanons Tårn, der ser mod Damaskus,
5 Your head on you as Carmel, And the locks of your head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
Hovedet på dig som Karmel, dit Hoveds Lokker som Purpur; en Konge er fanget i Garnet.
6 How beautiful and how pleasant you have been, O love, in delights.
Hvor er du fager og yndig, du elskede, yndefulde!
7 This your stature has been like to a palm, And your breasts to clusters.
Som Palmen, så er din Vækst, dit Bryst som Klaser.
8 I said, “Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs,” Indeed, let your breasts now be as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of your face as citrons,
Jeg tænker: Jeg vil op i Palmen, gribe fat i dens Stilke; dit Bryst skal være som Vinstokkens Klaser, din Næses Ånde som Æbleduft,
9 And your palate as the good wine—Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
din Gane som ædel Vin, der liflig flyder ind i min Mund, glider over mine Læber og Tænder.
10 I [am] my beloved’s, and on me [is] his desire.
Jeg er min Vens, og til mig står hans Attrå.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
Kom min Ven, vi vil ud på Landet, blive i Landsbyer Natten over;
12 We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, We see if the vine has flourished, The sweet smelling-flower has opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, There I give to you my loves;
Vingårde søger vi årle, vi ser, om Vinstokken skyder, om Knopperne åbnes, Granattræet blomstrer. Der giver jeg dig min Kærlighed.
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, indeed, old, my beloved, I laid up for you!
Kærlighedsæblerne dufter, for vor Dør er al Slags Frugt, ny og gammel tillige; til dig, min Ven, har jeg gemt dem.
