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.
Nzize mu nnimiro yange mwannyinaze, omugole wange; nkuŋŋaanyiza mooli yange n’eby’akawoowo byange. Ndidde ebisenge byange eby’omubisi gw’enjuki gwange ne nywa n’omubisi gwange, Nywedde wayini wange n’amata gange. Abemikwano Abemikwano mulye munywe, munywere ddala, mmwe abaagalana.
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."
Nnali ngalamidde, ng’omutima gwange guwulira. Ne mpulira muganzi wange ng’akonkona, n’ayogera nti, “Nziguliraawo mwannyinaze, Owoomukwano, ejjiba lyange, owe wange ataliiko bbala, kubanga omutwe gwange gutobye omusulo, n’enviiri zange zibisiwadde olw’obunnyogovu.”
3 I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on? I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?
Nziggyeko ekkooti yange, nnaagyambala ntya nate? Nanaabye ebigere, nnaddayo ntya mu ttaka gye binaddugalira?
4 My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for him.
Muganzi wange bwe yakwata ku munyolo, omutima gwange ne gubuukabuuka.
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.
Ne ngolokoka okuggulirawo muganzi wange, emikono gyange nga gitonnya mooli, n’engalo zange nga zikulukuta mooli, ku minyolo gy’ekufulu.
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.
Ne ŋŋenda okuggulirawo muganzi wange, naye muganzi wange ng’avuddewo, yeetambulidde. Omutima gwange gwasanyuka bwe nnawulira eddoboozi lye. Ne munoonya naye n’ambula, ne mukoowoola naye nga taddamu.
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.
Abakuumi baansanga bwe baali nga balawuna mu kibuga; baankuba, ne bandeetako ebinuubule, ne batwala n’ekyambalo kyange, abasajja abo abakuuma bbugwe.
8 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love.
Mmwe abawala ba Yerusaalemi, mbakuutira nti bwe mulaba ku muganzi wange, mumutegeeze ng’okwagala kwange gy’ali bwe kunzita.
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?
Owange, kiki muganzi wo ky’alina kyasinza abalungi abalala ggwe omukazi akira abalala obulungi? Kiki muganzi wo kyasinza abalala n’okutukuutira n’otukuutira bw’otyo?
10 My beloved is radiant and tan. The best among ten thousand.
Muganzi wange alabika bulungi nnyo era mumyufu, atabula ne mu bantu omutwalo.
11 His head is like the purest gold. His hair is bushy, black as a raven.
Omutwe gwe gwa zaabu ennongoose ennyo; n’enviiri ze zirimu amayengo, era nzirugavu nga nnamuŋŋoona.
12 His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.
Amaaso ge gali ng’amayiba ku mabbali g’emigga egy’amazzi, agaanaazibwa n’amata, ne gaba ng’amayinja ag’omuwendo omungi.
13 His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
Amatama ge gali ng’emisiri egy’obuwoowo, obuleeta akaloosa akalungi. Emimwa gye giri ng’amalanga agakulukuta mooli.
14 His hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.
Emikono gye giri ng’emitayimbwa egya zaabu egiteekebwamu amayinja ag’omuwendo. Omubiri gwe guli ng’amasanga amayooyote agatoneddwa ne safiro.
15 His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Amagulu ge gali ng’empagi ez’amayinja aganyirira ezisimbibwa mu zaabu ennungi. Mu ndabika afaanana Lebanooni omulungi ng’emivule gyayo.
16 His mouth is sweetness; yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
Enjogera ye mpomerevu, weewaawo awamu n’ebyo byonna ayagalibwa. Ono ye muganzi wange, ye mukwano gwange; mmwe abawala ba Yerusaalemi.
