Song Of Songs 5

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride;
    I have gathered my myrrh with my spice.
I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey;
    I have drunk my wine and my milk.

Me a meyɛ ɔpanyin no, mitu asafo no mu mpanyimfo fo sɛ, meyɛ Kristo amanehunu no ho adanse nti n’anuonyam a ɛbɛba no bɛka me. Mitu mo fo sɛ,

I slept but my heart was awake.
    Listen! My beloved is knocking:
“Open to me, my sister, my darling,
    my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew,
    my hair with the dampness of the night.”

monyɛ nguan a Onyankopɔn de wɔn ahyɛ mo nsa no nguanhwɛfo na monhwɛ wɔn yiye sɛnea Onyankopɔn pɛ sɛ moyɛ no. Monyɛ adwuma a monhwehwɛ ho akatua biara na mmom ɔpɛ ara na mopɛ sɛ moyɛ.

I have taken off my robe—
    must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet—
    must I soil them again?

Monnhyɛ wɔn a wɔde wɔn ahyɛ mo nsa no so na mmom monyɛ nhwɛso pa mma nguan no.

My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening;
    my heart began to pound for him.

Na sɛ Oguanhwɛfo panyin no ba a, wɔbɛma mo anuonyam ahenkyɛw a ɛho nsɛe da.

I arose to open for my beloved,
    and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh,
    on the handles of the bolt.

Saa ara na ɛsɛ sɛ mmabun, mobrɛ mo ho ase ma mpanyimfo. Mo nyinaa mfa ahobrɛase nkatanim mmɔ mo asen na monsom mo ho mo ho efisɛ, Kyerɛwsɛm no ka se, “Onyankopɔn siw ahantanfo kwan na ɔdom ahobrɛasefo.”

I opened for my beloved,
    but my beloved had left; he was gone.
    My heart sank at his departure.^[a]
I looked for him but did not find him.
    I called him but he did not answer.

Enti mommrɛ mo ho ase nhyɛ Onyankopɔn nsa a tumi wɔ mu no ase sɛnea ɛbɛyɛ a ɔbɛma mo so wɔ bere a ɛsɛ mu.

The watchmen found me
    as they made their rounds in the city.
They beat me, they bruised me;
    they took away my cloak,
    those watchmen of the walls!

Momfa mo dadwene ne mo haw nyinaa nto ne so efisɛ, odwen mo ho.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you—
    if you find my beloved,
what will you tell him?
    Tell him I am faint with love.

Mo ani nna hɔ; monwɛn efisɛ, mo tamfo bonsam no nam sɛ gyata a ɔbobɔm hwehwɛ nea obenya no amene.

How is your beloved better than others,
    most beautiful of women?
How is your beloved better than others,
    that you so charge us?

Momfa gyidi nnyina pintinn nsiw no kwan efisɛ, munim sɛ mo nuanom gyidifo a wɔwɔ wiase mmaa nyinaa rehu saa amane koro no ara bi.

My beloved is radiant and ruddy,
    outstanding among ten thousand.

Na adom nyinaa Nyankopɔn a wafrɛ mo aba ne daa anuonyam no mu Kristo mu no, ɔno ara na sɛ munya hu amane kakra ansa a, obesiesie mo pɛ; ɔbɛma mo ase atim. Ɔbɛhyɛ mo den; ɔbɛma mo anya nnyinaso.

His head is purest gold;
    his hair is wavy
    and black as a raven.

Ɔno na tumi wɔ no daa daa. Amen.

His eyes are like doves
    by the water streams,
washed in milk,
    mounted like jewels.

Me nua gyidini Silwano na ɔboaa me ma mekyerɛw saa krataa tiaa yi. Mepɛ sɛ mehyɛ mo nkuran na midi adanse sɛ, eyi yɛ Onyankopɔn adom kann. Munnyina mu dennen.

His cheeks are like beds of spice
    yielding perfume.
His lips are like lilies
    dripping with myrrh.

Asafo a Onyankopɔn ayi wɔ Babilonia no ne me ba Marko kyia mo.

His arms are rods of gold
    set with topaz.
His body is like polished ivory
    decorated with lapis lazuli.

Momfa ɔdɔ atuuyɛ wɔ Kristo mu nkyiakyia mo ho mo ho. Asomdwoe nka mo a mowɔ Kristo mu no nyinaa.

His legs are pillars of marble
    set on bases of pure gold.
His appearance is like Lebanon,
    choice as its cedars.

His mouth is sweetness itself;
    he is altogether lovely.
This is my beloved, this is my friend,
    daughters of Jerusalem.