Song of Solomon 7

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.

Hvor skønne er dine Trin i Skoene, du ædelbårne! Dine Hofters Runding er som Halsbånd, Kunstnerhånds Værk,

Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.

dit Skød som det runde Bæger, ej savne det Vin, dit Liv som en Hvededynge, hegnet af Liljer;

Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.

dit Bryst som to Hjortekalve, Gazelletvillinger,

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.

din Hals som Elfenbenstårnet, dine Øjne som Hesjbons damme ved Bat-Rabbims Port, din Næse som Libanons Tårn, der ser mod Damaskus,

Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries.

Hovedet på dig som Karmel, dit Hoveds Lokker som Purpur; en Konge er fanget i Garnet.

How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!

Hvor er du fager og yndig, du elskede, yndefulde!

This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.

Som Palmen, så er din Vækst, dit Bryst som Klaser.

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;

Jeg tænker: Jeg vil op i Palmen, gribe fat i dens Stilke; dit Bryst skal være som Vinstokkens Klaser, din Næses Ånde som Æbleduft,

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.

din Gane som ædel Vin, der liflig flyder ind i min Mund, glider over mine Læber og Tænder.

I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.

Jeg er min Vens, og til mig står hans Attrå.

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.

Kom min Ven, vi vil ud på Landet, blive i Landsbyer Natten over;

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.

Vingårde søger vi årle, vi ser, om Vinstokken skyder, om Knopperne åbnes, Granattræet blomstrer. Der giver jeg dig min Kærlighed.

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.

Kærlighedsæblerne dufter, for vor Dør er al Slags Frugt, ny og gammel tillige; til dig, min Ven, har jeg gemt dem.