The daughters of Jerusalem, I'm dark and lovely like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes are doves.

Look at you! You are handsome, my beloved, truly lovely. How lush is our couch.

Like a lily among thorns, so is my darling among the young women.

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. In his shade I take delight and sit down, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

The voice of my beloved! Look! He's coming, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look, there he stands behind our wall, looking through the windows, gazing through the lattice.

Look! Winter is past. The rain is over and gone.

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn around, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the rugged mountains.

What is this coming up from the desert like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and incense from all the fragrant powders of the merchant?

Look! It's Solomon's sedan chair, with 60 of the best soldiers in Israel surrounding it.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes behind your veil are doves, your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep about to be sheared, who are coming up from being washed. All of them are twins, not one has lost her young.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your mouth is lovely. Behind your veil, your temple is like a slice of pomegranate.

Your neck is like the tower of David, built with rows of stones. A thousand shields are hung upon it, all the shields of the warriors.

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

Your lips drip honey, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue. The scent of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

I got up to open the door, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handle of the lock.

What is so special about your beloved, most beautiful of women? What is so special about your beloved, that you charge us like this?

His head is pure gold, his hair is wavy, black like a raven.

His eyes are like doves by streams of water, bathed in milk, mounted like jewels.

His cheeks are like beds of spices, like towers of perfume. His lips are lilies, dripping with liquid myrrh.

His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice like its cedars.

Where did your beloved go, most beautiful of women? Where did your beloved turn, so we may look for him with you?

You are beautiful, my darling, like Tirzah, lovely like Jerusalem, as awesome as an army with banners.

Turn your eyes from me, for they excite me. Your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes coming up from being washed. All of them are twins, not one has lost her young.

Your temple behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.

Who is this who appears like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?

I went down to the walnut orchard, to look at the green sprouts in the valley, to see whether the vine had budded, whether the pomegranates had blossomed.

Return, return, Shulammite, return, return, so we may look at you! Why should you look at the Shulammite, like you watch the dance of the two camps?

How beautiful are your feet in sandals, noble lady. The curves of your thighs are like ornaments, the work of a skilled artist's hands.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory. Your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon, beside the gate of Beth-rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon, which faces Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. Your flowing locks are like purple, and a king could be captured in the dangling tresses.

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

I told myself, "I'll go up the palm tree, and take hold of its fruit. May your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the smell of your breath like apples.

May your mouth be like good wine. May it go down smoothly to my beloved, gliding gently over the lips of the sleeping ones.

If only you were like a brother to me, like one who nursed at my mother's breasts. If I found you outside I would kiss you, and no one would view me with contempt.

Set me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, passion as intense as Sheol. The flames of love are flames of fire, a blaze that comes from the LORD.

I was a wall and my breasts were like towers. Then I became like one who finds peace in his eyes.

Come quickly, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices.