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:
Fanjaka o fandia’o mihànao, ry anak’ ampelan-droandria! hoe hange nitoloñem-pitàm-pitsene mahimbañe ty hahomozohozom-pe’o.
2 Thy navel, is a round bowl, may it not lack spiced wine! Thy body, a heap of wheat fenced about with lilies;
Fitovy bontoly ty foe’o, ie le lia’e tsy po-divay milaro; fitoboron’ ampemba iarikatoham-binda o araña’oo.
3 Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, the twins of a gazelle:
Fanaloke tora’e o fatroa’oo, ana-kambam-panalon-drene’e.
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:
Hoe fitilik’abo aman-tsifan-drimo ty fititia’o. O antara’ i Kesbone marine’ i lalam-bei’ i Bate-Rabimeio o fihaino’oo. I fitilik’abo’ i Libanoney mitolike mbe Damesèke ty fiantsona’o.
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!
Misabaka azo manahake i vohi-Karmeley ty añambone’o, le mahasinda i mpanjakay o firandra’eo.
6 [HE] How beautiful, and how delightful, O dear love, for delights:
Akore ty hatsomerentsere’o naho ty hatrenotreno’o ry kokoako, toe mahafale!
7 This thy stature, is like to a palm-tree, and, thy breasts, are like clusters:
Mitroatse hoe voanio ty sandri’o, le mitoboro hoe o voa’eo o fatroa’oo.
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;
Aa hoe iraho: Hanganiheko i voanioy, naho ho rambeseko o voa’eo; fa hanahake ty voam-bahe o fatroa’oo, naho minday ty harifondrifom-boasare ty sehaseha’o,
9 And, thy mouth, like good wine—[SHE] Flowing to my beloved smoothly, gliding over the lips of the sleeping.
Hoe divay fanjaka ty lañilañi’o; malama ty fisorogoda’e ho a i kokoakoy, hoe mitsiritsioke mora am-pivimbim-pirotse.
10 I, am my beloved’s, and, unto me, is his longing.
A i kokoakoy raho naho amako ty fañiria’e.
11 Come, my beloved, Let us go forth into the country, Let us stay the night in the villages:
Antao, kokoako, homb’ an-kaloke mb’eo, hialeñe amo kialoo.
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.
Antao hañaleñaleñe mb’an-tanem-bahe mb’eo handrèndreke ty fibotibotia’ o vaheo, ke te miborake o voñe’eo, hera mamolera o raketao; ao ty hanjotsoako ama’o ty hateako, ry kokoako.
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.
Mañakatse ty hañi’e o vahenamaloo, hene raha mafiry ty an-tsariran-tikañe eo, ty vao naho ty haehae, songa nahajako ho azo, ry kokoako.
