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?

If thou knowest not, O fair among women, Get thee forth by the traces of the flock, And feed thy kids by the shepherds' dwellings!

I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!

For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away -- it hath gone.

Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!

On my couch by night, I sought him whom my soul hath loved; I sought him, and I found him not!

I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!

All of them holding sword, taught of battle, Each his sword by his thigh, for fear at night.

Its pillars he made of silver, Its bottom of gold, its seat of purple, Its midst lined with love, By the daughters of Jerusalem.

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

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,

If she is a wall, we build by her a palace of silver. And if she is a door, We fashion by her board-work of cedar.

The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,