Song of Songs 6
1 Whither is your kinsman gone, you beautiful amongst women? whither has your kinsman turned aside? [tell us], and we will seek him with you.
Hvor er din elskede hengangen, du dejligste iblandt Kvinderne? hvor har din elskede vendt sig hen? saa ville vi opsøge ham med dig.
2 My kinsman is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spice, to feed [his flock] in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
Min elskede er nedgangen i sin Have, til de duftende Blomsterbede for at vogte Hjorden i Haverne og at sanke Lillier.
3 I am my kinsman's, and my kinsman is mine, who feeds amongst the lilies.
Jeg er min elskedes, og min elskede er min, han, som vogter Hjorden iblandt Lillierne.
4 You are fair, my companion, as Pleasure, beautiful as Jerusalem, terrible as [armies] set in array.
Du, min Veninde! er skøn som Tirza, yndig som Jerusalem, forfærdelig som Hære under Banner.
5 Turn away your eyes from before me, for they have ravished me: your hair is as flocks of goats which have appeared from Galaad.
Vend dine Øjne bort fra mig, thi de gøre mig heftig; dit Haar er som en Gedehjord, der kommer op fra Gilead.
6 Your teeth are as flocks of shorn [sheep], that have gone up from the washing, all of them bearing twins, and there is none barren amongst them: your lips are as a thread of scarlet, and your speech is comely.
Dine Tænder ere som en Faarehjord, som kommer op af Svømmestedet, som alle sammen føde Tvillinger, og blandt hvilke intet er ufrugtbart.
7 Your cheek is like the rind of a pomegranate, [being seen] without your veil.
Dine Tindinger ere som et Stykke af Granatæble imellem dine Lokker.
8 There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens without number.
Der er tresindstyve Dronninger og firsindstyve Medhustruer og utallige Jomfruer.
9 My dove, my perfect one is one; she is the [only] one of her mother; she is the choice of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and the queens will pronounce her blessed, yes, and the concubines, and they will praise her.
Een er min Due, min fuldkomne, hun er sin Moders eneste, hun er ren for den, som hende fødte; Døtre saa hende og priste hende lykkelig, Dronninger og Medhustruer, og roste hende.
10 Who is this that looks forth as the morning, fair as the moon, choice as the sun, terrible as [armies] set in array?
Hvo er hun, der titter frem som Morgenrøden, dejlig som Maanen, ren som Solen, forfærdelig som Hære under Banner?
11 I went down to the garden of nuts, to look at the fruits of the valley, to see if the vine flowered, [if] the pomegranates blossomed.
Jeg var nedgangen i Nøddehaven at se, hvor det grønnedes i Dalen, at se, om Vintræet havde skudt, om Granattræerne havde blomstret.
12 There I will give you my breasts: my soul knew [it] not: it made me as the chariots of Aminadab.
Førend jeg vidste det, gjorde min Sjæl mig som mit ædle Folks Vogne.
13 Return, return, O Sunamite; return, return, and we will look at you. What will you see in the Sunamite? She comes as bands of armies.
Vend om, vend om, Sulamith! vend om, vend om, at vi maa se paa dig. Hvad ville I se paa Sulamith? Hun er som Dansen i Mahanaim.
