Song of Solomon 7
1 How beautiful, are thy feet in sandals, O daughter of a noble, —The curvings of thy hips, are like ornaments wrought by the hands of a skilled workman:
Mano kaka tiendeni beyo kirwako pat pat, yaye nyar joka ruoth! Tiendeni pichni ka kite ma nengogi tek, ka gima jopecho molony ema opayo.
2 Thy navel, is a round bowl, may it not lack spiced wine! Thy body, a heap of wheat fenced about with lilies;
Pendi ogomo ka wend agwata, ma divai moru maber ok rumie. Nungoni chalo pidh ngano mochok kaachiel, ma ondanyo olworo koni gi koni.
3 Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, the twins of a gazelle:
Thundeni chalo gi nyithind mwanda ariyo, gichalo gi nyithind mwanda ma rude.
4 Thy neck, is like a tower of ivory, —Thine eyes, are pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim, Thy nose, is like the tower of Lebanon, which looketh towards Damascus:
Ngʼuti chalo gi kar ngʼicho motingʼore gi malo molos gi lak liech. Wengeni nyawni ka pi Yawo mar Heshbon but rangach mar Bath Rabim. Umi chalo gi kar ngʼicho motingʼore gi malo mar Lebanon momanyore gi Damaski.
5 Thy head upon thee, is like Carmel, And, the hair of thy head, is like purple, —The king, is held captive by the ringlets!
Wiyi miyi duongʼ mana ka Got Karmel, yie wiyi to ochanore ka orengo mar ruoth, kendo omako pach ruoth.
6 [HE] How beautiful, and how delightful, O dear love, for delights:
Mano kaka ijaber kendo imiya mor, mano kaka imora, yaye jaherana!
7 This thy stature, is like to a palm-tree, and, thy breasts, are like clusters:
Dendi odongo mana ka othith, to thundi to chalo mana ka olemo, mogudore kanyachiel.
8 I said, I will ascend the palm-tree, I will lay hold of its fruit stalks—Oh then, let thy breasts, I pray thee, be like vine-clusters, And, the fragrance of thy nose, like apples;
Ne awacho niya, “Abiro lwenyo yiend othith; nyaka amak olembe gi lweta.” Mad thundeni chal gi olemb, mzabibu mochokore kanyachiel, to tik mar muchi chal gi olemo mayom,
9 And, thy mouth, like good wine—[SHE] Flowing to my beloved smoothly, gliding over the lips of the sleeping.
kendo dhogi chal mana gi divai mamit. Nyako Mad divai lor mos e dwond jaherana, kamol mos e kind lewe kod lekene komadhe.
10 I, am my beloved’s, and, unto me, is his longing.
An mar jaherana, kendo gombone ni kuoma.
11 Come, my beloved, Let us go forth into the country, Let us stay the night in the villages:
Bi, jaherana, bi wadhi waba ei gwengʼ, kendo wanind oko e bunge.
12 Let us get up early to the vineyards, Let us see whether the vine, hath burst forth, the blossom, hath opened, the pomegranates, have bloomed, —There, will I give my caresses to thee.
Bi wamondi gokinyi wadhi, e puothe mzabibu mondo wangʼiane, ka mzabibu oseolo, bende wangʼiane ka gisechako thiewo, kendo ka olembe mongʼinore oselokore makwar; kuno, ema abiro miyie herana.
13 The love-apples, have given fragrance, and, at our openings, are all precious things, new and yet old, —O my beloved! I have treasured them up for thee.
Kuno ema inyalo winjoe tik mar mandrake, kendo e odwa kanyo okanni gik mamit, motingʼo gik machon gi manyien, ma asebedo ka akanoni, yaye jaherana.
