The Beloved to Her Lover: Oh, how I wish you would kiss me passionately! For your lovemaking is more delightful than wine.

Draw me after you; let us hurry! May the king bring me into his bedroom chambers! The Maidens to the Lover: We will rejoice and delight in you; we will praise your love more than wine. The Beloved to Her Lover: How rightly the young women adore you!

Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has burned my skin. My brothers were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards. Alas, my own vineyard I could not keep!

My beloved is like a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-Gedi.

The Beloved about Her Lover: Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

The Lover to His Beloved: My lover spoke to me, saying: "Arise, my darling; My beautiful one, come away with me!

The pomegranates have appeared in the land, the time for pruning and singing has come; the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

The fig tree has budded, the vines have blossomed and give off their fragrance. Arise, come away my darling; my beautiful one, come away with me!"

The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places of the mountain crags, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes, that ruin the vineyards -- for our vineyard is in bloom.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved -- be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountain gorges.

The Beloved about Her Lover: All night long on my bed I longed for my lover. I longed for him but he never appeared.

Scarcely had I passed them by when I found my beloved! I held onto him tightly and would not let him go until I brought him to my mother's house, to the bedroom chamber of the one who conceived me.

All of them are skilled with a sword, well-trained in the art of warfare. Each has his sword at his side, to guard against the terrors of the night.

Come out, O maidens of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon! He is wearing the crown with which his mother crowned him on his wedding day, on the most joyous day of his life!

Your teeth are like a flock of newly-shorn sheep coming up from the washing place; each of them has a twin, and not one of them is missing.

Your neck is like the tower of David built with courses of stones; one thousand shields are hung on it -- all shields of valiant warriors.

You are altogether beautiful, my darling! There is no blemish in you!

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride! You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine; the fragrance of your perfume is better than any spice!

The Lover to His Beloved: You are a locked garden, my sister, my bride; you are an enclosed spring, a sealed-up fountain.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Awake, O north wind; come, O south wind! Blow on my garden so that its fragrant spices may send out their sweet smell. May my beloved come into his garden and eat its delightful fruit!

The Lover to His Beloved: I have entered my garden, O my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my balsam spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk! The Poet to the Couple: Eat, friends, and drink! Drink freely, O lovers!

The Beloved about Her Lover: I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming. Listen! My lover is knocking at the door! The Lover to His Beloved: "Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one! My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

The Beloved to Her Lover: "I have already taken off my robe -- must I put it on again? I have already washed my feet -- must I soil them again?"

I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh -- my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.

I opened for my beloved, but my lover had already turned and gone away. I fell into despair when he departed. I looked for him but did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me.

The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen on the walls!

The Maidens to The Beloved: Why is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful of women? Why is your beloved better than others, that you would command us in this manner?

The Beloved to the Maidens: My beloved is dazzling and ruddy; he stands out in comparison to all other men.

His eyes are like doves by streams of water, washed in milk, mounted like jewels.

His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars.

The Beloved to the Maidens: My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the flowerbeds of balsam spices, to graze in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin; not one of them is missing.

But she is unique! My dove, my perfect one! She is the special daughter of her mother, she is the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and complimented her; the queens and concubines praised her:

"Who is this who appears like the dawn? Beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awe-inspiring as the stars in procession?"

The Lover to His Beloved: I went down to the orchard of walnut trees, to look for the blossoms of the valley, to see if the vines had budded or if the pomegranates were in bloom.

The Lover to His Beloved: Turn, turn, O Perfect One! Turn, turn, that I may stare at you! The Beloved to Her Lover: Why do you gaze upon the Perfect One like the dance of the Mahanaim?

Your navel is a round mixing bowl -- may it never lack mixed wine! Your belly is a mound of wheat, encircled by lilies.

Your neck is like a tower made of ivory. Your eyes are the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. The locks of your hair are like royal tapestries -- the king is held captive in its tresses!

May your mouth be like the best wine, flowing smoothly for my beloved, gliding gently over our lips as we sleep together.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside; let us spend the night in the villages.

Let us rise early to go to the vineyards, to see if the vines have budded, to see if their blossoms have opened, if the pomegranates are in bloom -- there I will give you my love.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Oh, how I wish you were my little brother, nursing at my mother's breasts; if I saw you outside, I could kiss you -- surely no one would despise me!

I would lead you and bring you to my mother's house, the one who taught me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of my pomegranates.

The Maidens about His Beloved: Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her beloved? The Beloved to Her Lover: Under the apple tree I aroused you; there your mother conceived you, there she who bore you was in labor of childbirth.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Set me like a cylinder seal over your heart, like a signet on your arm. For love is as strong as death, passion is as unrelenting as Sheol. Its flames burst forth, it is a blazing flame.

The Beloved's Brothers: We have a little sister, and as yet she has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister on the day when she is spoken for?

If she is a wall, we will build on her a battlement of silver; but if she is a door, we will barricade her with boards of cedar.

The Beloved: I was a wall, and my breasts were like fortress towers. Then I found favor in his eyes.

The Lover to His Beloved: O you who stay in the gardens, my companions are listening attentively for your voice; let me be the one to hear it!

The Beloved to Her Lover: Make haste, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices.