How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, - how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices:

I have put off my tunic, oh how shall I put it on? I have bathed my feet, oh how shall I soil them?

I know not how it was , my soul, set for me the chariots of my willing people!

How beautiful, are thy feet in sandals, O daughter of a noble, - The curvings of thy hips, are like ornaments wrought by the hands of a skilled workman:

HEHow beautiful, and how delightful, O dear love, for delights: