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:
We mwarĩ ũyũ wa mũnene, ĩ magũrũ maku mekĩrĩtwo iraatũ ti mathaka! Magũrũ maku mathakarĩte makahaana ta mathaga, marĩa mathondeketwo nĩ moko ma mũbundi mũũgĩ.
2 Thy navel, is a round bowl, may it not lack spiced wine! Thy body, a heap of wheat fenced about with lilies;
Mũkonyo waku nĩ ta kaihũri ga gĩthiũrũrĩ karĩa gataagaga ndibei ningie. Njohero yaku ĩhaana ta kĩhumbu kĩa ngano ngonyore, gĩthiũrũrũkĩirio nĩ itoka.
3 Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, the twins of a gazelle:
Nyondo ciaku ihaana ciana igĩrĩ cia thiiya, ikahaana mahatha ma thiiya.
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:
Ngingo yaku ĩhaana ta mũthiringo mũraihu wakĩtwo na mĩguongo. Maitho maku nĩ ta tũria twa Heshiboni, hakuhĩ na kĩhingo kĩa Bathi-Rabimu. Iniũrũ rĩaku rĩhaana ta mũthiringo mũraihu wa Lebanoni ũrĩa ũrorete na mwena wa Dameski.
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!
Mũtwe waku ũkũhumbaga tanji ta Kĩrĩma gĩa Karimeli. Nacio njuĩrĩ ciaku ciirĩte ikahaana ta rangi wa ndathi; mũthamaki aikaraga ta oohereirwo tũmĩcuha-inĩ twacio.
6 [HE] How beautiful, and how delightful, O dear love, for delights:
Wee wendo, kaĩ wee ũrĩ mũthaka na wa gũkenania-ĩ! Maũndũ maku nĩmagũkenania!
7 This thy stature, is like to a palm-tree, and, thy breasts, are like clusters:
Kĩrũgamo gĩaku kĩrũngarĩte ta mũtĩ wa mũkĩndũ, nacio nyondo ciaku ihaana ta imanjĩka cia matunda.
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;
Ndoigire atĩrĩ, “Nĩngũhaica mũtĩ ũyũ wa mũkĩndũ; nĩngũtua matunda maguo.” Nyondo ciaku irotuĩka ta imanjĩka cia thabibũ, nayo mĩhũmũ yaku ĩtararĩke wega ta matunda,
9 And, thy mouth, like good wine—[SHE] Flowing to my beloved smoothly, gliding over the lips of the sleeping.
nako kanua gaku gatuĩke ta ndibei ĩrĩa njega mũno. Mwendwa Ndibei ĩyo ĩrokinyĩra mwendwa wakwa, na ĩmerũke wega ĩrĩ gatagatĩ ka mĩromo na magego.
10 I, am my beloved’s, and, unto me, is his longing.
Niĩ ndĩ wa mwendwa wakwa, nake nĩ niĩ eriragĩria.
11 Come, my beloved, Let us go forth into the country, Let us stay the night in the villages:
Mwendwa wakwa, ũka, nĩtũthiĩ mĩgũnda-inĩ, nĩtũthiĩ tũkaraarĩrĩre tũtũũra-inĩ.
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.
Nĩtũrooke gũthiĩ tene mĩgũnda-inĩ ya mĩthabibũ tũkarore kana mĩthabibũ nĩmĩthundũku, na kana nĩĩcanũrĩte kĩro kĩayo, o na kana mĩkomamanga nĩĩrutĩte kĩro: kũu nĩkuo ngaakũheera wendo wakwa.
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.
Matunda ma mandarĩki nĩmaratararĩka, na mũrango-inĩ gwitũ kũrĩ na matunda ma mĩthemba yothe marĩa mega mũno, ma mũgethano o na mangĩ maikaru, marĩa ngũigĩire, wee mwendwa wakwa.
