Song of Solomon 5
1 I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends. Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved.
Jeg kommer i min Have, min Søster, min Brud, jeg plukker min Myrra og Balsam, jeg spiser min Honning og Saft, jeg drikker min Vin og Mælk. Venner, spis og drik og berus jer i Kærlighed!
2 I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night."
Jeg sov, men mit hjerte våged; tys, da banked min ven: "Luk op for mig, o Søster, min Veninde, min Due, min rene, thi mit Hoved er fuldt af Dug, mine Lokker af Nattens Dråber."
3 I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on? I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?
Jeg har taget min Kjortel af, skal jeg atter tage den på? Jeg har tvættet mine Fødder, skal jeg atter snavse dem til?
4 My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for him.
Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Hånd, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
5 I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
Jeg stod op og åbned for min Ven; mine Hænder drypped af Myrra, mine Fingre af flydende Myrra, da de rørte ved Låsens Håndtag.
6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved left; and had gone away. My heart went out when he spoke. I looked for him, but I did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer.
Så lukked jeg op for min Ven, men min Ven var gået sin Vej. Jeg var ude af mig selv ved hans Ord. Jeg søgte, men fandt ham ikke, kaldte, han svared mig ikke.
7 The watchmen who go about the city found me. They beat me. They bruised me. The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.
Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og såred mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
8 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love.
Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre: Såfremt I finder min Ven, hvad skal I da sige til ham? At jeg er syg af Kærlighed!
9 How is your beloved better than another beloved, you fairest among women? How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us?
"Hvad Fortrin har da, din Ven, du fagreste, blandt Kvinder? Hvad Fortrin har da din Ven, at du besværger os så?"
10 My beloved is radiant and tan. The best among ten thousand.
Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
11 His head is like the purest gold. His hair is bushy, black as a raven.
hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
12 His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.
hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
13 His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
hans Kinder som Balsambede; Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper, af flydende Myrra,
14 His hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.
hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
15 His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
hans Ben er Søjler af Marmor På Sokler af Guld, hans Skikkelse som Libanon, herlig som Cedre,
16 His mouth is sweetness; yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Sådan er min elskede, sådan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
