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.
A la bèl pye ou bèl nan sandal yo, o pitit a nòb yo! O fi a prens lan! Koub kwis ou tankou bijou, zèv a yon vrè atis.
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 kon yon tas won ki pa janm manke diven mele; vant ou se yon bèl pakèt ble ankadre ak flè lis;
3 Your two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
De tete ou se de jenn pòtre a yon antilòp, jimo a yon antilòp.
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 se yon kou ivwa, zye ou tankou sous dlo nan Hesbon yo akote pòtay a Bath-Rabbim nan. Nen ou tankou tou Liban ki gade vè Damas la.
5 Your head on you as Carmel, And the locks of your head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
Tèt ou kouwone ou tankou Mòn Carmel e très cheve tèt ou tankou fisèl mov. Wa a kaptire pa très ou yo.
6 How beautiful and how pleasant you have been, O love, in delights.
A la ou bèl e a la ou mèvèye, ak tout bèlte ou yo!
7 This your stature has been like to a palm, And your breasts to clusters.
Lè ou kanpe se tankou yon pye palmis e tete ou se grap li yo.
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 te di: “Mwen va monte pye palmis lan, mwen va kenbe tij fwi li yo.” O ke tete ou yo kapab tankou grap ki pann sou chan rezen nan e bon odè a souf ou tankou pòm,
9 And your palate as the good wine—Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
Epi bouch ou tankou meyè diven an, ki desann byen swa pou cheri mwen an, e koule dousman nan lèv a sila ki tonbe nan dòmi yo.
10 I [am] my beloved’s, and on me [is] his desire.
Mwen pou cheri mwen an e dezi li se pou mwen.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
Vini, cheri mwen an! Annou pati ale nan chan yo e fè lojman nan ti vil 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;
Annou leve bonè pou rive nan chan rezen yo; annou gade pou wè si chan rezen an gen tan boujonnen e flè li yo fin ouvri. Se la, m ap bay ou lanmou mwen an.
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, indeed, old, my beloved, I laid up for you!
Mandragò yo fin bay bèl odè; epi sou tout pòt nou yo se tout meyè fwi yo, ni nèf ni ansyen, ki te konsève pou ou, lanmou mwen an.
