His left hand is under my head, and his right hand does embrace me.

Swear to me, young women of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the does of the field, that you won't awaken or arouse love before its proper time!

Until when does the day blow, and the shadows flee away? Turn, my Beloved, and be like a gazelle, or a young deer, the stag, on the mountains of Bether.

Swear to me, young women of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the does of the field, that you won't awaken or arouse love before its proper time!

Your navel [is] {a round wine-mixing bowl} that does not lack mixed wine! Your belly [is] a heap of wheat encircled with lilies.

{We have a little sister}, {and she does not yet have any breasts}. What should we do for our sister {on the day when she is betrothed}?