W My love is mine and I am his;
he feeds among the lilies.

Your breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle, that feed among the lilies.

His cheeks are like beds of spice,
towers of perfume.
His lips are lilies,
dripping with flowing myrrh.

W My love has gone down to his garden,
to beds of spice,
to feed in the gardens
and gather lilies.

I am my love’s and my love is mine;
he feeds among the lilies.

Your navel is a rounded bowl;
it never lacks mixed wine.
Your waist is a mound of wheat
surrounded by lilies.