The song of songs, which is Solomon's.

Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth; for Your love is better than wine.

For Your ointments have a lovely fragrance; Your name is as oil poured out; therefore the virgins love You.

Tell me, You whom my soul loves, where do You feed, where do You lie down at noon? For why should I be as one who is veiled beside the flocks of Your companions?

While the King is in His circle, my spikenard gives its smell.

A bundle of myrrh is my Beloved to me. He shall lie all night between my breasts.

My Beloved is to me like a cluster of henna in the vineyards of Engedi.

Behold, you are beautiful, my Beloved, yea, pleasant. Also our bed is green.

As the lily among thorns, so is My love among the daughters.

As the apple among the trees of the wood, so is my Beloved among the sons. I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste.

His left hand is under my head, and His right hand embraces me.

My Beloved is like a roe or a young hart. Behold, He stands behind our wall, He looks forth at the windows, peering from the lattice.

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over; it goes to itself.

the flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land;

O My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let Me see your face, let Me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is beautiful.

Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vines have tender grapes.

My Beloved is mine, and I am His; He feeds among the lilies.

Who is this coming up out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, from all the merchant's powders?

Behold, you are beautiful, My love. Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are like doves' from behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of shorn sheep, which came up from the washing; they all are bearing twins and not one is barren among them.

Your lips are like a cord of scarlet, and your speech is becoming; your temples are like a piece of pomegranate behind your veil.

Your neck is like the tower of David built for an armory, on which there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

You are all fair, My love; no blemish is in you.

How fair is your love, My sister, My spouse! How much better is your love than wine, and the smell of your ointments than all spices!

Your lips, My spouse, drop like the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue; and the smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A locked garden is My sister, My spouse; a rock heap locked up, a fountain sealed.

I sleep, but my heart is awake. It is the sound of my Beloved that knocks, saying, Open to Me, My sister, My love, My dove, My undefiled; for My head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

What is your Beloved more than another beloved, most beautiful among women? What is your Beloved more than another beloved, that you adjure us so?

My Beloved is bright and ruddy, standing out among ten thousand.

His head is like refined gold; His locks are bushy, black as a raven.

His eyes are as doves' eyes on the rivers of waters, washed with milk, sitting on a setting.

His cheeks are like a bed of spices, a raised bed of aromatic herbs. His lips are as lilies dropping flowing myrrh.

His legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold; His face is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

His mouth is most sweet; yes, He is altogether lovely. This is my Beloved, and this is my Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine; He feeds among the lilies.

O my love, you are as beautiful as Tirzah, as lovely as Jerusalem, as inspiring as an army with banners.

Turn away your eyes from Me, for they have overcome Me; your hair is like a flock of goats that appears from Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes which go up from the washing; they all are bearing twins, and a barren one is not among them.

But My dove, My undefiled is one alone. She is the only one of her mother. She is the choice of her who bore her. The daughters saw her and blessed her; the queens and the concubines saw her, and they praised her.

Who is she who looks forth like the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, awesome as armies with banners?

Return, return, O Shulamite! Return, return, that we may look on you. What will you see in the Shulamite? As it were the dance of two camps.

Your navel is like a round goblet, which never lacks mixed wine; your belly is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory; your eyes like the fish-pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Beth-rabbim; your nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looks toward Damascus.

Your head on you is like Carmel, and the hair of your head like purple cloth; the King is held captive in its tresses.

Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like clusters of grapes.

I am my Beloved's, and His desire is toward me.

Come, my Beloved, let us go out into the field; let us stay in the villages.

Let us rise up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flowers, whether the tender grape appears, and the pomegranates bud forth; there I will give You my loves.

Who could give You to me as my brother, who sucked my mother's breasts? When I find You outside, I would kiss You; yea, they would not despise me.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her Beloved? I awakened you under the apple tree; there your mother travailed with you; there she travailed and bore you.

Set me as a seal on Your heart, as a seal on Your arm; for love is strong as death. Jealousy is cruel as the grave; its flames are flames of fire, a flame of Jehovah.

If she is a wall, we will build on her a palace of silver; and if she is a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar.

I was a wall, and my breasts like towers; then I was in His eyes as one finding peace.

My vineyard, which is mine, is before me; you, O Solomon, must have a thousand, and for the keepers of its fruit, two hundred.