Song of Solomon 7

Ala bèl pye ou bèl nan sapat ou yo, nègès mwen! Ren ou tankou si li te dekore ak bon lò. Ou ta di travay yon bòs ki gen anpil ladrès ak gou!
How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
Lonbrit ou tankou yon bòl won ki pa janm manke diven melanje ak fèy santi bon. Anba vant ou menm tankou yon bèl jaden ble ak bèl ti flè sou tout arebò li.
Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
Tete ou yo doubout tankou de ti gazèl, de ti gazèl menm fòs, menm pòte.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
Kou ou tankou yon fò won fèt an ivwa. Je ou yo tankou basen dlo nan lavil Esbon, bò pòtay gwo lavil la. Nen ou tankou gwo fò peyi Liban an k'ap veye sou lavil Damas.
Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath–rabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
Ou kenbe tèt ou dwèt sou kò ou, tankou mòn Kamèl. Cheve ou yo ap flote tankou bèl twal swa wouj grena. Nenpòt wa ta ka pèdi nan bouklèt cheve ou yo!
Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries.
Ala bèl ou bèl, mennaj mwen! Ala dous ou dous, bèl nègès mwen!
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
Lè ou kanpe, ou ta di yon bèl pye palmis. De tete ou yo ou ta di de ti grap palmis.
This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
Mwen fè lide moute sou pye palmis la pou m' keyi grap yo. Pou mwen, tete ou yo tankou de grap rezen. Bouch ou gen sant ponm kajou!
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;
Anndan bouch ou, gen gou yon bon diven. Kite diven an koule pou mennaj mwen, Kite l' koule nan bouch nou antan n'ap dòmi.
And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
Se pou mennaj mwen mwen ye! Se mwen menm li anvi.
I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
Vini non, mennaj mwen! Ann al andeyò. N'a pase nwit lan nan jaden yo.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.
Nan maten, n'apral gade pye rezen yo pou wè si yo konmanse boujonnen, si flè yo ap louvri, si pye grenad yo ap fleri. Se la n'a karese nèt ale.
Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth: there will I give thee my loves.
Ou ka pran sant mandragò yo. Devan papòt nou an gen tout kalite bon fwi, fwi ki fèk keyi ak fwi ki byen mi. Mennaj mwen, se mwen ki te sere yo pou ou.
The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.