His left hand under my head, then, his right hand, embraceth me!

For lo, the winter, is past, - the rain, is over, and gone;

With me, from Lebanon, O bride, with me, from Lebanon, shalt thou enter, - Thou shalt look round from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.

With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, - Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

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.

His left hand under my head, then, his right hand, embraceth me.