Song of Solomon 5
1 I have come in to my garden, my sister-spouse, I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, Yea, drink abundantly, O beloved ones!
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 am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! 'Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled [with] dew, My locks [with] drops 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 put off my coat, how do I put it on? I have washed my feet, how do I defile 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 sent his hand from the net-work, And my bowels were moved for him.
Gennem Gluggen rakte min Ven sin Hånd, det brusede stærkt i mit Indre.
5 I rose to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped myrrh, Yea, my fingers flowing 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 withdrew — he passed on, My soul went forth when he spake, I sought him, and found him not. I called him, and he answered me not.
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 round about the city, Found me, smote me, wounded me, Keepers of the walls lifted up my veil from off me.
Vægterne, som færdes i Byen, traf mig, de slog og såred mig; Murens Vægtere rev Kappen af mig.
8 I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved — What do ye tell him? that I [am] sick 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 What [is] thy beloved above [any] beloved, O fair among women? What [is] thy beloved above [any] beloved, That thus thou hast adjured 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] clear and ruddy, Conspicuous above a myriad!
Min Ven er hvid og rød, herlig blandt Titusinder,
11 His head [is] pure gold — fine gold, His locks flowing, dark as a raven,
hans Hoved er det fineste Guld, hans Lokker er Ranker, sorte som Ravne,
12 His eyes as doves by streams of water, Washing in milk, sitting in fulness.
hans Øjne som Duer ved rindende Bække, badet i Mælk og siddende ved Strømme,
13 His cheeks as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, His lips [are] lilies, dropping flowing myrrh,
hans Kinder som Balsambede; Skabe med Vellugt, hans Læber er Liljer, de drypper, af flydende Myrra,
14 His hands rings of gold, set with beryl, His heart bright ivory, covered with sapphires,
hans Hænder er Stænger af Guld, fyldt med Rubiner, hans Liv en Elfenbensplade, besat med Safirer,
15 His limbs pillars of marble, Founded on sockets of fine gold, His appearance as Lebanon, choice 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 — and all of him desirable, This [is] my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!
hans Gane er Sødme, han er idel Ynde. Sådan er min elskede, sådan min Ven, Jerusalems Døtre.
