Song of Solomon 7
1 As the chorus of 'Mahanaim.' How beautiful were thy feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of thy sides [are] as ornaments, Work of the hands of an artificer.
Wo nan ne mpaboa yɛ fɛ, Ɔdehye babea! Wʼanantu a wugyina so te sɛ abohemaa, odwumfo nsa ano adwuma.
2 Thy waist [is] a basin of roundness, It lacketh not the mixture, Thy body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
Wo funuma yɛ kuruwa a enni nsa a nsa pa wɔ mu bere biara. Wo sisi yɛ atoko a wɔaboa ano na sukooko atwa ho ahyia.
3 Thy two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
Wo nufu te sɛ atwemma abien, atwemma nta.
4 Thy neck as a tower of the ivory, Thine eyes pools in Heshbon, near the gate of Bath-Rabbim, Thy face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,
Wo kɔn te sɛ asonse abantenten. Wʼaniwa aba te sɛ Hesbon ntade a ɛwɔ Bat Rabim pon nkyɛn. Wo hwene te sɛ Lebanon abantenten a ɛkyerɛ Damasko no.
5 Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
Wo ti si so sɛ Karmel Bepɔw. Wo tinwi te sɛ adehyetam a wɔadi mu adwinni; wo tinwi atenten no kyere ɔhene dommum.
6 How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
Wo ho yɛ fɛ, ɔdɔ, wo ho yɛ anigye na ɛma ahomeka ara!
7 This thy stature hath been like to a palm, And thy breasts to clusters.
Wo sibea te sɛ abɛ dua, na wo nufu te sɛ aduaba kasiaw.
8 I said, 'Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,
Mekae se, “Mɛforo abɛ dua no; na maso nʼaba mu.” Wo nufu nyɛ sɛ bobe kasiaw, na wo home mu hua nyɛ sɛ aprɛ.
9 And thy palate as the good wine — 'Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
Na wʼanom hua nyɛ sɛ bobesa papa. Ababaa: Ma bobesa no nkɔ me dɔfo hɔ tee, ɛnsen mfa nʼanofafa ne ne se no so brɛoo.
10 I [am] my beloved's, and on me [is] his desire.
Meyɛ me dɔfo de, na nʼapɛde ne me.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
Bra, me dɔfo; ma yɛnkɔ akuraa, ma yɛnkɔda akuraa anadwo baako.
12 We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, We see if the vine hath flourished, The sweet smelling-flower hath opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, There do I give to thee my loves;
Ma yɛnkɔ bobeturo mu ntɛm nkɔhwɛ sɛ bobe no agu nhwiren, sɛ nhwiren no apaapae, anaasɛ ntunkum no ayɛ frɔmfrɔm. Ɛhɔ na mede me dɔ bɛma wo.
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, yea, old, my beloved, I laid up for thee!
Adesaa yi ne hua, na akɔnnɔduan nyinaa begu yɛn pon ano, foforo ne dedaw, a mede asie ama wo, me dɔfo.
