Chante Salomon 4
1 Ala bèl ou bèl, anmòrèz mwen! Ala bèl ou bèl dèyè vwal ki sou tèt ou a! Je ou yo ou ta di de ti pijon. Cheve ou yo ap danse tankou yon bann kabrit k'ap kouri desann sou mòn Galarad.
[HE] Lo! thou art beautiful, my fair one, Lo! thou art beautiful, Thine eyes, are doves, from behind thy veil, —Thy hair, is like a flock of goats, which are reclining on the sides of Mount Gilead:
2 Dan ou yo blan tankou mouton yo fèk sot benyen apre yo fin koupe lenn sou do yo. Ou pa manke yonn ladan yo. Tout dan anwo yo mache ak dan anba yo.
Thy teeth, are like a flock, evenly grown, which have come up from the washing-place, —whereof, all of them, are twin-bearers, and bereaved, is none among them:
3 Po bouch ou, ou ta di yon bèl ti riban wouj. Se bèl plezi pou tande w'ap pale! De bò figi ou yo ou ta di de bò grenad anba vwal ou a.
Like a cord of crimson, are thy lips, and, thy mouth, is lovely, —Like a slice of pomegranate, are thy temples, behind thy veil:
4 Kou ou kanpe tankou bèl fò won David la, kote yo kenbe depo zam yo. Se la vanyan sòlda yo vin pandye mil plak fè pwotèj.
Like the tower of David, is thy neck, built for war, —A thousand shields, hung thereon, all, equipment of heroes:
5 Tete ou yo doubout tankou de ti gazèl, tankou de ti gazèl menm fòs, menm pòte k'ap manje nan jaden flè.
Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, twins of a gazelle, —which pasture among lilies.
6 M'ap rete sou mòn mant lan, sou ti bit lansan an jouk bajou kase, jouk solèy leve.
Until the day, breathe, and the shadows, be lengthened, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, and unto the hill of frankincense.
7 Ou pa manke bèl, anmòrèz mwen! Depi nan pwent zòtèy ou jouk nan pwent cheve ou, ou san defo!
Thou art, all over, beautiful, my fair one, and, blemish, is there none in thee.
8 Ann al avè m' non! Ann desann mòn Liban an, fiyanse mwen! Ann desann mòn Liban an! N'ap rete sou tèt mòn Amana, sou mòn Seyi ak sou mòn Emon kote lyon ak leyopa rete, n'ap gade plenn lan anba.
With me, from Lebanon, O bride, with me, from Lebanon, shalt thou enter, —Thou shalt look round from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
9 Sò mwen, bèl nègès mwen, ou annik gade m' yon fwa, ou fè m' pèdi lòlòj mwen. M' annik wè yonn nan bèl ti chenn nan kou ou yo, m' pèdi tèt mwen.
Thou hast encouraged me, my sister, bride, —thou hast encouraged me, with one [glance] of thine eyes, with one ornament of thy neck.
10 Ala dous karès ou yo dous, sò mwen, bèl nègès mwen! Karès ou yo pi dous pase siwo myèl. Sant kò ou pi bon pase tout kalite fèy santi bon.
How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, —how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices:
11 Bouch ou gen gou siwo myèl, bèl nègès mwen! Anba lang ou menm, se lèt ak siwo myèl. Rad sou ou gen menm sant ak rakbwa mòn Liban an.
With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, —Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
12 Sò mwen, bèl nègès mwen, ou tankou yon jaden kache, yon sous dlo yo fèmen dèyè miray, yon fontenn yo sele.
A garden barred, is my sister, bride, —a spring barred, a fountain sealed:
13 Ou tankou yon jaden fre kote pye grenad ap grandi. Y'ap bay bèl grenad byen dous. Ou tankou yon jaden kote yo jwenn jasmen ak ti bonm,
Thy buddings forth, are a paradise of pomegranates, with precious fruits, —henna bushes, with nard blossoms:
14 tibonm ak safran, sitwonèl ak kannèl ak tout kalite pyebwa ki bay lansan, lami ak lalwa, ansanm ak tout kalite plant ki gen bon sant.
Nard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all woods of frankincense, —myrrh and aloes, with all the chiefs of spices:
15 Fontenn jaden mwen an, se yon sous dlo k'ap koule desann byen fre soti nan mòn Liban an.
A garden fountain, a well of living waters, —and flowings from Lebanon.
16 Van nòde, leve non! Van swèt, kouri vini soufle sou jaden mwen an! Plen lè a ak bon sant. Vini non, mennaj mwen! Antre nan jaden ki pou ou a! Manje nan pi bon fwi yo!
[SHE] Awake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden—its balsams, will flow out, —Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.
