Rwĩmbo 5
1 Wee mwarĩ wa maitũ o wee mũhiki wakwa, nĩndoka mũgũnda-inĩ wakwa; nĩnjookanĩrĩirie manemane makwa na mahuti makwa marĩa mangĩ manungi wega. Nĩndĩĩte magua makwa, o na ũũkĩ wakwa; nĩnyuĩte ndibei yakwa, o na iria rĩakwa. Arata Inyuĩ arata-rĩ, rĩai na mũnyue; inyuĩ mwendaine-rĩ, nyuai nginya mũiganie.
I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink; drink freely, O beloved.
2 Ndĩrarĩ toro, no ngoro yakwa nĩĩreiguĩte. Ta thikĩrĩria! Mwendwa wakwa nĩararingaringa mũrango, akiugaga atĩrĩ: “Mwarĩ wa maitũ, wee mwendwa wakwa, wee ndutura yakwa, o wee wakwa ũtarĩ kaũcuuke-rĩ, hingũrĩra. Mũtwe wakwa nĩũihũgĩtio nĩ ime, njuĩrĩ yakwa ĩkaiyũra ireera rĩa ũtukũ.”
I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
3 Nĩndutĩte nguo yakwa ya igũrũ: no nginya ndĩmĩĩhumbe rĩngĩ? Ningĩ nĩndĩthambĩte magũrũ: no nginya ndĩmekĩre gĩko rĩngĩ?
I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
4 Mwendwa wakwa araikirie guoko gwake kamwanya-inĩ ka mũrango, nayo ngoro yakwa ĩrambĩrĩria kũmwĩrirĩria.
My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded for him.
5 Ndĩrokĩra kũhingũrĩra mwendwa wakwa, moko makwa magĩtaataga manemane, nacio ciara ciakwa ikanyũrũrũkia manemane, nyiitĩro-inĩ ya mũrango.
I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.
6 Ndĩrahingũrĩire mwendwa wakwa, no mwendwa wakwa ndararĩ ho, nĩarathiĩte; Nayo ngoro yakwa ĩroorwo nĩ hinya nĩ ũndũ wake gũthiĩ. Ndĩramwethire, no ndinamuona. Ndĩramwĩtire, no ndananjĩtĩka.
I opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him, but did not find him. I called, but he did not answer.
7 Arangĩri maranyona magĩthiũrũrũka itũũra-inĩ rĩu inene. Nao marahũũrire, marandihangia; marandunya nguo yakwa ya igũrũ, arangĩri acio a thingo!
I encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city. They beat me and bruised me; they took away my cloak, those guardians of the walls.
8 Inyuĩ aarĩ aya a Jerusalemu, ndamwĩhĩtithia atĩrĩ: mũngĩona mwendwa wakwa-rĩ, mũkũmwĩra atĩa? Mwĩrei atĩ ndĩ mũcuce nĩ wendo.
O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.
9 Wee mũthaka gũkĩra andũ-a-nja arĩa angĩ othe-rĩ, mwendwa waku aagĩrĩte agakĩra endwa arĩa angĩ na kĩ? Mwendwa waku akĩrĩte endwa arĩa angĩ nakĩ, nĩguo ũtwĩhĩtithie ũguo?
How is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another, that you charge us so?
10 Mwendwa wakwa nĩ mũthaka na agatunĩha, nĩekũũranĩte harĩ arũme ngiri ikũmi.
My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
11 Mũtwe wake ũhaana ta thahabu theru mũno; njuĩrĩ yake ĩrĩ na mĩkumba, na ĩkaira ta ihuru.
His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
12 Maitho make mahaana ta ma ndutura ciũmbĩte tũrũũĩ-inĩ, mahaana ta mathambĩtio na iria, o ta maigĩtwo wega makaagĩrĩra ta mathaga.
His eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk and mounted like jewels.
13 Makai make namo mahaana ta tũmĩgũnda tũtumanĩte mahuti manungi wega magĩtararĩka. Mĩromo yake no ta itoka igũita manemane.
His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
14 Moko make mahaana ta thanju cia thahabu, itheecereirwo tũhiga-inĩ tũrĩa twĩtagwo thumarati; mwĩrĩ wake ũhaana ta mũguongo ũrĩa mũnyorokie, ũgemetio na yakuti ĩrĩa theru.
His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is an ivory panel bedecked with sapphires.
15 Magũrũ make matariĩ ta itugĩ cia mahiga ma mũthemba wa marimari, ihaandĩrĩirwo itina-inĩ cia thahabu ĩrĩa therie. Maũthĩ make matariĩ ta Lebanoni, agathakara ta mĩtarakwa yakuo.
His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
16 Kanua gake akĩaria karĩ mũrĩo mũno; we nĩ wa kwendeka biũ. Atĩrĩrĩ, ũyũ nĩwe mwendwa wakwa, ũyũ nĩwe mũrata wakwa, inyuĩ aarĩ a Jerusalemu.
His mouth is most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
