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.
Ala bèl pye ou bèl nan sapat ou yo, nègès mwen! Ren ou tankou si li te dekore ak bon lò. Ou ta di travay yon bòs ki gen anpil ladrès ak gou!
2 Your waist [is] a basin of roundness, It does not lack the mixture, Your body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
Lonbrit ou tankou yon bòl won ki pa janm manke diven melanje ak fèy santi bon. Anba vant ou menm tankou yon bèl jaden ble ak bèl ti flè sou tout arebò li.
3 Your two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
Tete ou yo doubout tankou de ti gazèl, de ti gazèl menm fòs, menm pòte.
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,
Kou ou tankou yon fò won fèt an ivwa. Je ou yo tankou basen dlo nan lavil Esbon, bò pòtay gwo lavil la. Nen ou tankou gwo fò peyi Liban an k'ap veye sou lavil Damas.
5 Your head on you as Carmel, And the locks of your head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
Ou kenbe tèt ou dwèt sou kò ou, tankou mòn Kamèl. Cheve ou yo ap flote tankou bèl twal swa wouj grena. Nenpòt wa ta ka pèdi nan bouklèt cheve ou yo!
6 How beautiful and how pleasant you have been, O love, in delights.
Ala bèl ou bèl, mennaj mwen! Ala dous ou dous, bèl nègès mwen!
7 This your stature has been like to a palm, And your breasts to clusters.
Lè ou kanpe, ou ta di yon bèl pye palmis. De tete ou yo ou ta di de ti grap palmis.
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,
Mwen fè lide moute sou pye palmis la pou m' keyi grap yo. Pou mwen, tete ou yo tankou de grap rezen. Bouch ou gen sant ponm kajou!
9 And your palate as the good wine—Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
Anndan bouch ou, gen gou yon bon diven. Kite diven an koule pou mennaj mwen, Kite l' koule nan bouch nou antan n'ap dòmi.
10 I [am] my beloved’s, and on me [is] his desire.
Se pou mennaj mwen mwen ye! Se mwen menm li anvi.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
Vini non, mennaj mwen! Ann al andeyò. N'a pase nwit lan nan jaden yo.
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;
Nan maten, n'apral gade pye rezen yo pou wè si yo konmanse boujonnen, si flè yo ap louvri, si pye grenad yo ap fleri. Se la n'a karese nèt ale.
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, indeed, old, my beloved, I laid up for you!
Ou ka pran sant mandragò yo. Devan papòt nou an gen tout kalite bon fwi, fwi ki fèk keyi ak fwi ki byen mi. Mennaj mwen, se mwen ki te sere yo pou ou.
