Tell me, thou loved of my soul! Where wilt thou pasture thy flock? Where wilt thou let them recline at noon? For why should I be as one that wrappeth a veil about her, by the flocks of thy companions?

HEO my dove! In the retreats of the crag, in the hiding-place of the terrace, Let me see thy form, Let me hear thy voice, - For, thy voice, is sweet, and, thy form, comely.

Scarcely had I passed from them, when I found the beloved of my soul, - I caught him, and would not let him go, until that I had brought him into the house of my mother, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.

SHEAwake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden - its balsams, will flow out, - Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.

I said, I will ascend the palm-tree, I will lay hold of its fruit stalks - Oh then, let thy breasts, I pray thee, be like vine-clusters, And, the fragrance of thy nose, like apples;

Come, my beloved, Let us go forth into the country, Let us stay the night in the villages:

Let us get up early to the vineyards, Let us see whether the vine, hath burst forth, the blossom, hath opened, the pomegranates, have bloomed, - There, will I give my caresses to thee.

I would have guided thee - brought thee into the house of my mother, Thou wouldst have instructed me, - I would have let thee drink of spiced wine, of the pressed-out juice of my pomegranate.

HEO thou fair dweller in the gardens, the companions are giving heed to thy voice, Let me hear it.