How delightful your love is, my sister, my bride.
Your love is much better than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any balsam.

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.

(The Bridegroom)“I have come into my garden, my sister, my [promised] bride;
I have gathered my myrrh along with my balsam and spice [from your sweet words].
I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey;
I have drunk my wine with my milk.
Eat, friends;
Drink and drink deeply, O lovers.”

“His cheeks are like a bed of balsam,
Banks of sweet, fragrant herbs.
His lips are lilies
Dripping sweet-scented myrrh.

SHEMy beloved, is gone down to his garden, to the beds of balsam, - to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies,

SHECome quickly, my beloved, and resemble thou a gazelle, or a young stag, upon the mountains of balsam-trees.