Das Wort Bin Ich

The Song of Solomon

Geneva Bible 1599

 Zurück | Inhalt | Weiter 

- Kapitel 8 -

1
Oh that thou werest as my brother that sucked the brestes of my mother: I would finde thee without, I would kisse thee, then they should not despise thee.
2
I will leade thee and bring thee into my mothers house: there thou shalt teache me: and I will cause thee to drinke spiced wine, and newe wine of the pomegranate.
3
His left hand shalbe vnder mine head, and his right hand shall embrace me.
4
I charge you, O daughters of Ierusale, that you stir not vp, nor waken my loue, vntil she please.
5
(Who is this that commeth vp out of the wildernesse, leaning vpon her welbeloued?) I raysed thee vp vnder an apple tree: there thy mother conceiued thee: there she coceiued that bare thee.

If only we could be undisturbed!

6
Set mee as a seale on thine heart, and as a signet vpon thine arme: for loue is strong as death: ielousie is cruel as the graue: the coles thereof are fierie coles, and a vehement flame.
7
Much water can not quench loue, neither can the floods drowne it: If a man should giue all the substance of his house for loue, they would greatly contemne it.

Easy to conquer?

8
Wee haue a litle sister, and she hath no breastes: what shall we do for our sister when she shalbe spoken for?
9
If shee be a wall, we will builde vpon her a siluer palace: and if she be a doore, we wil keepe her in with bordes of cedar.
10
I am a wall, and my breasts are as towres: then was I in his eyes as one that findeth peace.

Richer than Solomon

11
Salomon had a vine in Baal-hamon: hee gaue the vineyarde vnto keepers: euery one bringeth for ye fruite thereof a thousand pieces of siluer.
12
But my vineyarde which is mine, is before me: to thee, O Salomon appertaineth a thousand pieces of siluer, and two hundreth to them that keepe the fruite thereof.

Call only me

13
O thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken vnto thy voyce: cause me to heare it.
14
O my welbeloued, flee away, and be like vnto the roe, or to the yong harte vpon ye mountaines of spices.