My beloved spoke to me: "Get up, my darling, my beautiful one, and come on.

The fig tree has produced its fruit, the grapevines have blossomed and exude their fragrance. "Get up, my darling, my beautiful one, and come on.

I'll get up and go all around the city, throughout the streets, and in the squares. I'll seek the one I love. I sought him, but didn't find him.

"I've taken off my clothes am I supposed to put them on again? I've washed my feet am I supposed to get them dirty again?"

I got up to open the door, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handle of the lock.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory. Your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon, beside the gate of Beth-rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon, which faces Damascus.

May your mouth be like good wine. May it go down smoothly to my beloved, gliding gently over the lips of the sleeping ones.