O how fair art thou, my love, how fair art thou? Thou hast doves' eyes.

O how fair art thou, my beloved, how well favored art thou? Our bed is decked with flowers,

O how fair art thou, my love, how fair art thou? Thou hast doves' eyes, beside that which lieth hid within. Thy hairy locks are like the wool of a flock of goats that be shorn on Mount Gilead.

O how fair are thy breasts, my sister, my spouse? Thy breasts are more pleasant than wine, and the smell of thine ointments passeth all spices.

I have put off my coat: how can I do it on again? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them again?

I charge you therefore, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him how that I am sick for love.

O how pleasant are thy treadings, with thy shoes, thou prince's daughter? The joint of thy thighs are like a fair jewel, which is wrought by a cunning work master;

O how fair and lovely art thou, my darling, in pleasures?