< Chante Salomon 2 >
1 Mwen se flè Woz Saron an, flè Lis a vale yo.
I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys.
2 Tankou yon flè lis pami pikan yo, se konsa cheri mwen an ye pami tout jenn fi yo.
As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
3 Tankou yon pye pòm pami bwa nan forè, se konsa cheri mwen an ye pami jennonm yo. Nan lonbraj li mwen te pran gwo plezi pou m te chita; konsa fwi li te dous nan gou m.
As the apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired: and his fruit was sweet to my palate.
4 Li te mennen m nan gwo sal bankè li, e drapo li monte sou mwen an se lanmou.
He brought me into the cellar of wine, he set in order charity in me.
5 Ban m fòs ak gato rezen, rafrechi m ak pòm, akoz mwen malad ak lanmou.
Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples: because I languish with love.
6 Kite men goch li rete anba tèt mwen ak men dwat li pou l anbrase m.
His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.
7 M ap avèti nou, O fi a Jérusalem yo, nan non antilòp ak bich mawon an, pou nou pa fè lanmou m leve, ni ouvri zye li jiskaske se plezi li.
I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and the harts of the, fields, that you stir not up, nor make the beloved to awake, till she please.
8 Koute! Men cheri mwen an! Men l ap vini! L ap monte sou mòn yo, epi vòltije sou kolin yo!
The voice of my beloved, behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills.
9 Cheri mwen an tankou yon antilòp, oswa yon jenn sèf. Gade byen, li kanpe dèyè mi kay nou an; l ap gade nan fenèt yo, l ap gade nan jalouzi a.
My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart. Behold he standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices.
10 Cheri mwen an te reponn mwen e te di m: “Leve vini cheri mwen an, pi bèl mwen an.
Behold my beloved speaketh to me: Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come.
11 Paske gade, sezon fredi a fin pase, lapli fin pati nèt.
For winter is now past, the rain is over and gone.
12 Flè yo deja parèt nan peyi a; tan an chante a fin rive! Vwa toutrèl la ap koute deja nan peyi a.
The flowers have appeared in our land, the time of pruning is come: the voice of the turtle is heard in our land:
13 Fwi pye fig etranje a fin mi, e chan rezen yo bay odè pafen. Leve vini, annou pati!”
The fig tree hath put forth her green figs: the vines in flower yield their sweet smell. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come:
14 O toutrèl nan fant wòch mwen an, nan kote sekrè chemen ki monte apik, kite mwen wè figi ou, kite mwen tande vwa ou! Paske vwa ou dous e fòm ou bèl nèt.
My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow places of the wall, shew me thy face, let thy voice sound in my ears: for thy voice is sweet, and thy face comely.
15 Kenbe rena yo pou nou, ti rena k ap detwi chan rezen yo, paske chan nou yo ap fè flè.
Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines: for our vineyard hath flourished.
16 Cheri mwen an se pa m, e mwen se pa l. Li fè patiraj twoupo li pami flè lis yo.
My beloved to me, and I to him who feedeth among the lilies,
17 Jiskaske joune a vin fè fre lè lonbraj yo kouri ale; vire, cheri mwen an, fè tankou antilòp la, oswa jenn sèf sou mòn Bether a.
Till the day break, and the shadows retire. Return: be like, my beloved, to a roe, or to a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.