My beloved is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies.

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

His cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine. He browses among the lilies,

Your body is like a round goblet, no mixed wine is wanting. Your waist is like a heap of wheat, set about with lilies.