I had just passed them
when I found the one I love.
I held on to him and would not let him go
until I brought him to my mother’s house—
to the chamber of the one who conceived me.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel,
the hair of your head like purple cloth—
a king could be held captive in your tresses.

I said, “I will climb the palm tree
and take hold of its fruit.”
May your breasts be like clusters of grapes,
and the fragrance of your breath like apricots.