Song of Solomon 2

I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.

Jeg er Sarons Rose, Dalenes Lilje

As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

Som en Lilje midt iblandt Torne er min Veninde blandt Piger.

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

Som et Æbletræ blandt Skovens Træer er min Ven blandt unge Mænd. I hans Skygge har jeg Lyst til at sidde, hans Frugt er sød for min Gane.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.

Til en Vinhal bragte han mig, hvor Mærket over mig er Kærlighed.

Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.

Styrk mig med Rosinkager, kvæg mig med Æbler, thi jeg er syg af Kærlighed.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.

Hans venstre er under mit Hoved, hans højre tager mig i Favn.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Jeg besværger eder, Jerusalems Døtre, ved Gazeller og Markens Hjorte: Gør ikke Kærligheden Uro, væk den ikke, før den ønsker det selv!

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.

Hør! Der er min Ven! Ja se, der kommer han i Løb over Bjergene, i Spring over Højene.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.

Min Ven er som en Gazel, han er som den unge Hjort. Se, nu står han alt bag vor Mur. Han ser gennem Vinduet, kigger gennem Gitteret.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Min Ven stemmer i og siger så til mig: Stå op, min Veninde, du fagre, kom!

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

Thi nu er Vinteren omme, Regntiden svandt, for hen,

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

Blomster ses i Landet, Sangens Tid er kommet, Turtelduens Kurren høres i vort Land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Figentræets Småfrugter svulmer, Vinstokken blomstrer, udspreder Duft. Stå op, min Veninde, du fagre, kom,

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

min Due i Fjeldets Kløfter, i Bjergvæggens Skjul! Lad mig skue din Skikkelse, høre din Røst, thi sød er din Røst og din Skikkelse yndig.

Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.

Fang os de Ræve, de Ræve små,som hærger Vinen, vor blomstrende Vin!

My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.

Min Ven er min, og jeg er hans,som vogter blandt Liljer;

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

til Dagen svales og Skyggerne længes, kom hid, min Ven, og vær som Gazellen, som den unge Hjort på duftende Bjerge!