Abụ nke Abụ 5
1 Abatala m nʼubi m a gbara ogige, nwanne m nwanyị, nwunye ọhụrụ m. Achịkọtala m máá ya na ụda m, arachakwala m mmanụ aṅụ m na ugbugbo mmanụ aṅụ. Aṅụkwala m mmiri ara ehi na mmanya m. Ndị Enyi Rie, ṅụọkwa, unu ndị bụ enyi; ṅụjuo afọ, unu ndị hụrụ onwe unu nʼanya.
I have come into 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, friends. Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved.
2 A rahụrụ m ụra, ma obi m mụ anya. Gee ntị, onye ahụ m hụrụ nʼanya na-akụ aka nʼibo ọnụ ụzọ. “Megheere m ụzọ, nwanne m nwanyị, onye m hụrụ nʼanya, nduru m, onye na-enweghị ntụpọ. Igirigi ezokwasịla m nʼisi, agịrị isi m jupụtara na mmiri nke abalị.”
I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night."
3 Eyipụlarị m uwe m. Ọ bụ m yirikwa ha ọzọ? Asaala m ụkwụ m, aga m eme ka ha ruo unyi ọzọ?
I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on? I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?
4 Onye m hụrụ nʼanya gbatịrị aka ya imeghe ụzọ, mgbe ahụ, obi m chọsikwara ya ike.
My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for him.
5 Mụ onwe m biliri imeghere onye m hụrụ nʼanya ụzọ, ma aka m abụọ jupụtakwara na mmanụ máá, mmanụ máá si na mkpịsịaka m niile na-atapụsi, nʼelu ihe mkpọchi nke ibo.
I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
6 Mgbe m megheere onye m hụrụ nʼanya ụzọ, ma lee, ọ nọkwaghị ya, ọ laala. Obi fepụrụ m mgbe ọ pụwara. Elegharịrị m anya chọọ ya ma ahụghị m ya ebe ọbụla. Akpọrọ m ya oku ma ọ zaghị.
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved left; and had gone away. My heart went out when he spoke. I looked for him, but I did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer.
7 Ndị nche hụrụ m mgbe ha na-agagharị nʼobodo, ha tiri m ihe merụọ m ahụ. Ndị nche mgbidi obodo napụrụ m akwa mkpuchi m.
The watchmen who go about the city found me. They beat me. They bruised me. The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.
8 Unu ụmụ agbọghọ Jerusalem, ana m agba unu iyi, ọ bụrụ na unu ahụ onye m hụrụ nʼanya, gịnị ka unu ga-agwa ya? Gwa ya na abụ m onye ịhụnanya mere ka ike gwụchasịa nʼahụ.
I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love.
9 Gị nwanyị kachasị mma, olee otu onye ị hụrụ nʼanya si dị mma karịa ndị ọzọ? Olee otu onye ị hụrụ nʼanya si dị mma karịa ndị ọzọ nke i ji enye anyị iwu dị otu a?
How is your beloved better than another beloved, you fairest among women? How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us?
10 Onye m hụrụ nʼanya chapụrụ achapụ, dị mma ile anya. Ọ pụrụ iche nʼetiti puku ndị nwoke iri.
My beloved is radiant and tan. The best among ten thousand.
11 Isi ya dịka ọlaedo a nụchara anụcha, agịrị isi ya na-eruda dịka igu nkwụ, na-ejikwa nji dịka ugolọma.
His head is like the purest gold. His hair is bushy, black as a raven.
12 Anya ya abụọ dịka nduru nọ nʼakụkụ mmiri iyi nke e jiri mmiri ara ehi sachaa, dịka nkume dị oke ọnụahịa e doro nʼahịrị.
His eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.
13 Nti ya abụọ dị ka ihe ndina ụda nke jupụtara na mmanụ isi ụtọ. Egbugbere ọnụ ya dị ka okoko urodi, nke na-agbụsị mmanụ máá.
His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
14 Aka ya abụọ dị ka mkpara ọlaedo a kpụziri akpụzi, nke a hịọnyere nkume oke ọnụahịa beril nʼime ya. Ahụ ya na-akwọ mụrụmụrụ dịka ọdụ nke e ji nkume dị oke ọnụahịa safaia chọọ mma.
His hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.
15 Ogwe ụkwụ ya abụọ dị ka ogidi e ji nkume mabụl kpụọ, nke e ji ọlaedo a ṅụchara anụcha tọọ ntọala ha. Ụdịdị ya dị ka Lebanọn, dịkwa oke ọnụ dịka osisi sida ya.
His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
16 Ọnụ ya bụ ihe tọkarịsịrị ụtọ nʼonwe ya, ihe niile banyere ya dị mma nʼile anya. Unu ụmụ agbọghọ Jerusalem, onye dị otu a bụ onye ahụ m hụrụ nʼanya, ọ bụkwa enyi m.
His mouth is sweetness; yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
