Dark am I, and comely, daughters of Jerusalem, As tents of Kedar, as curtains of Solomon.

Declare to me, thou whom my soul hath loved, Where thou delightest, Where thou liest down at noon, For why am I as one veiled, By the ranks of thy companions?

As a lily among the thorns,

As a citron among trees of the forest, So is my beloved among the sons, In his shade I delighted, and sat down, And his fruit is sweet to my palate.

Lo, thou art fair, my friend, lo, thou art fair, Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil, Thy hair as a row of the goats That have shone from mount Gilead,

Thy teeth as a row of the shorn ones That have come up from the washing, For all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.

As a thread of scarlet are thy lips, And thy speech is comely, As the work of the pomegranate is thy temple behind thy veil,

As the tower of David is thy neck, built for an armoury, The chief of the shields are hung on it, All shields of the mighty.

Thy two breasts are as two fawns, Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies.

Thy lips drop honey, O spouse, Honey and milk are under thy tongue, And the fragrance of thy garments Is as the fragrance of Lebanon.

His head is pure gold -- fine gold, His locks flowing, dark as a raven,

His eyes as doves by streams of water, Washing in milk, sitting in fulness.

His cheeks as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, His lips are lilies, dropping flowing myrrh,

His limbs pillars of marble, Founded on sockets of fine gold, His appearance as Lebanon, choice as the cedars.

Fair art thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.

Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair is as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,

Thy teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.

As the work of the pomegranate is thy temple behind thy veil.

Who is this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'

As the chorus of 'Mahanaim.' How beautiful were thy feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of thy sides are as ornaments, Work of the hands of an artificer.

Thy two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,

Thy neck as a tower of the ivory, Thine eyes pools in Heshbon, near the gate of Bath-Rabbim, Thy face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,

Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!

I said, 'Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,

And thy palate as the good wine -- 'Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!

Who doth make thee as a brother to me, Sucking the breasts of my mother? I find thee without, I kiss thee, Yea, they do not despise me,

Set me as a seal on thy heart, as a seal on thine arm, For strong as death is love, Sharp as Sheol is jealousy, Its burnings are burnings of fire, a flame of Jah!

I am a wall, and my breasts as towers, Then I have been in his eyes as one finding peace.