Højsangen 6

 
                                            Dansk1931
                                        
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                                    1 Hvor er din Ven gået hen, du fagreste blandt Kvinder? Hvor har din ven vendt sig hen? Vi vil søge ham med dig.                                

                                    1 “Where has your beloved gone,O most beautiful among women?Where has your beloved turned,That we may seek him with you?”                                
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                                    2 Min Ven gik ned i sin Have, ti lBalsambedene, for at vogte sin Hjord i Haverne og sanke Liljer.                                

                                    2 “My beloved has gone down to his garden,To the beds of balsam,To pasture his flock in the gardensAnd gather lilies.                                
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                                    3 Jeg er min Vens, og min Ven er min, han, som vogter blandt Liljer.                                

                                    3 “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,He who pastures his flock among the lilies.”                                
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                                    4 Du er fager, min Veninde, som Tirza, yndig som Jerusalem, frygtelig som Hære under Banner.                                

                                    4 “You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling,As lovely as Jerusalem,As awesome as an army with banners.                                
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                                    5 Vend dine Øjne fra mig, de forvirrer mig så! Dit Hår er som en Gedeflok, bølgende ned fra Gilead.                                

                                    5 “Turn your eyes away from me,For they have confused me;Your hair is like a flock of goatsThat have descended from Gilead.                                
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                                    6 dine Tænder som en Fåreflok, der kommer fra Bad, som alle har Tvillinger, intet er uden Lam;                                

                                    6 “Your teeth are like a flock of ewesWhich have come up from their washing,All of which bear twins,And not one among them has lost her young.                                
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                                    7 din Tinding er et bristet Granatæble bag ved dit Slør.                                

                                    7 “Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranateBehind your veil.                                
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                                    8 Dronningernes Tal er tresindstyve, Medhustruernes firsindstyve, på Terner er der ej Tal.                                

                                    8 “There are sixty queens and eighty concubines,And maidens without number;                                
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                                    9 Men een er hun, min Due, min rene, hun, sin Moders eneste, hun, sin Moders Kælebarn. Blev hun set af Piger, fik hun Pris, af Dronninger og Medhustruer Hyldest.                                

                                    9 But my dove, my perfect one, is unique:She is her mother’s only daughter;She is the pure child of the one who bore her.The maidens saw her and called her blessed,The queens and the concubines also, and they praised her, saying,                                
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                                    10 Hvo er hun, der titter frem som Morgenrøden, fager som Månen, skær som Solen, frygtelig som Hære under Banner?                                

                                    10 ‘Who is this that grows like the dawn,As beautiful as the full moon,As pure as the sun,As awesome as an army with banners?’                                
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                                    11 Jeg gik ned i Nøddehaven for at se, hvor det grønnes i Dale for at se, om Vintræet skød, om Granattræet nu stod i Blomst.                                

                                    11 “I went down to the orchard of nut treesTo see the blossoms of the valley,To see whether the vine had buddedOr the pomegranates had bloomed.                                
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                                    12 Før jeg vidste af det, satte min Sjæl mig på mit ædle Folks Vogne.                                

                                    12 “Before I was aware, my soul set meOver the chariots of my noble people.”                                
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                                    13 Vend dig, vend dig, Sulamit, vend dig, vend dig, så vi kan se dig!"Hvad vil I se på Sulamit, mens Sværddansen trædes?" ﻿                                

                                    13 “Come back, come back, O Shulammite;Come back, come back, that we may gaze at you!”
“Why should you gaze at the Shulammite,As at the dance of the two companies?