Højsangen 7
1 Hvor skønne er dine Trin i Skoene, du ædelbårne! Dine Hofters Runding er som Halsbånd, Kunstnerhånds Værk,
How beautiful are thy feet in sandals, O prince’s daughter! Thy rounded thighs are like jewels, The work of the hands of a skilful workman.
2 dit Skød som det runde Bæger, ej savne det Vin, dit Liv som en Hvededynge, hegnet af Liljer;
Thy body is [like] a round goblet, [Wherein] no mingled wine is wanting: Thy waist is [like] a heap of wheat Set about with lilies.
3 dit Bryst som to Hjortekalve, Gazelletvillinger,
Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe.
4 din Hals som Elfenbenstårnet, dine Øjne som Hesjbons damme ved Bat-Rabbims Port, din Næse som Libanons Tårn, der ser mod Damaskus,
Thy neck is like the tower of ivory; Thine eyes [as] the pools in Heshbon, By the gate of Bath-rabbim; Thy nose is like the tower of Lebanon Which looketh toward Damascus.
5 Hovedet på dig som Karmel, dit Hoveds Lokker som Purpur; en Konge er fanget i Garnet.
Thy head upon thee is like Carmel, And the hair of thy head like purple; The king is held captive in the tresses [thereof].
6 Hvor er du fager og yndig, du elskede, yndefulde!
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
7 Som Palmen, så er din Vækst, dit Bryst som Klaser.
This thy stature is like to a palm-tree, And thy breasts to its clusters.
8 Jeg tænker: Jeg vil op i Palmen, gribe fat i dens Stilke; dit Bryst skal være som Vinstokkens Klaser, din Næses Ånde som Æbleduft,
I said, I will climb up into the palm-tree, I will take hold of the branches thereof: Let thy breasts be as clusters of the vine, And the smell of thy breath like apples,
9 din Gane som ædel Vin, der liflig flyder ind i min Mund, glider over mine Læber og Tænder.
And thy mouth like the best wine, That goeth down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those that are asleep.
10 Jeg er min Vens, og til mig står hans Attrå.
I am my beloved’s; And his desire is toward me.
11 Kom min Ven, vi vil ud på Landet, blive i Landsbyer Natten over;
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; Let us lodge in the villages.
12 Vingårde søger vi årle, vi ser, om Vinstokken skyder, om Knopperne åbnes, Granattræet blomstrer. Der giver jeg dig min Kærlighed.
Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine hath budded, [And] its blossom is open, [And] the pomegranates are in flower: There will I give thee my love.
13 Kærlighedsæblerne dufter, for vor Dør er al Slags Frugt, ny og gammel tillige; til dig, min Ven, har jeg gemt dem.
The mandrakes give forth fragrance; And at our doors are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, Which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.
