Salme 45

1 (Til sangmesteren. Af Koras sønner. Al-alamot. En sang.) Mit Hjerte svulmer af liflige Ord, jeg kvæder mit Kvad til Kongens Pris, som Hurtigskriverens Pen er min Tunge.

For the leader; on shoshannim. Of the Korahites. A maskil. A love song. My heart is astir with beautiful words: I will sing a song, concerning the king, with tongue like the pen of a ready writer.

2 Den skønneste er du af Menneskens Børn, Ynde er udgydt på dine Læber, derfor velsignede Gud dig for evigt.

Your beauty is more than mortal, grace is shed over your lips: therefore God has blessed you forever.

3 Omgjord din Lænd med Sværdet, o Helt,

Warrior, strap your sword on your thigh. What glory and splendour!

4 Lykken følge din Højhed og Hæder, far frem for Sandhedens Sag, for Ydmyghed og Retfærd, din højre lære dig frygtelige Ting!

Good fortune attend you, as forth you ride in the cause of good faith, and as champion of justice. May your arm instruct you in deeds of dread.

5 Dine Pile er hvæssede, Folkeslag falder for din Fod, Kongens Fjender rammes i Hjertet.

Sharp are your arrows; nations fall under you: pierced to the heart are the foes of the king.

6 Din Trone, o Gud, står evigt fast, en Retfærds Stav er din Kongestav.

Your throne shall endure for ever and ever your royal sceptre a sceptre of equity.

7 Du elsker Ret og hader Uret; derfor salvede Gud, din Gud, dig med Glædens Olie fremfor dine Fæller,

Right you love and wrong you hate: therefore the Lord your God anoints you With oil of gladness above your fellows.

8 af Myrra, Aloe og Kassia dufter alle dine Klæder. Du glædes ved Strengeleg fra Elfenbenshaller,

With myrrh, aloes, and cassia your robes are all fragrant, you are gladdened by music of ivory harps.

9 Kongedøtre står i kostbare Klæder, Dronningen i Ofirguldets Skrud ved din højre.

King’s daughters stand ready with jewels for you, at your right hand the queen in gold of Ophir.

10 Hør, min Datter, opmærksomt og bøj dit Øre: Glem dit Folk og din Faders Hus,

Listen, daughter, and see; and incline your ear: forget your folk and your father’s house.

11 at Kongen må attrå din Skønhed, thi han er din Herre.

And when the king desires your beauty, bow to him, for he is your lord.

12 Tyrus's Datter skal hylde dig med Gaver, Folkets Rigmænd bejle til din Yndest.

So shall the Tyrians come with gifts, and the richest of people will do you homage.

13 Idel Pragt er Kongedatteren, hendes Dragt er Perler, stukket i Guld;

The king’s daughter is glorious altogether, with dress of pearls inwrought with gold.

14 fulgt af Jomfruer føres hun frem i broget Pragt, Veninderne fører hende hen til Kongen.

In many-coloured robes she is led to the king, with the virgin companions she brought in her train.

15 De føres frem under Glæde og Jubel, holder deres Indtog i Kongens Palads.

The king’s palace they enter with joy and rejoicing.

16 Dine Sønner træde ind i dine Fædres Sted, sæt dem til Fyrster rundt i Landet!

May sons of yours take the place of your fathers, whom you will make princes in all the land.

17 Jeg vil minde om dit Navn fra Slægt til Slægt; derfor skal Folkene love dig evigt og altid.

Your name will I celebrate world without end, so that nations shall praise you for ever and ever.