W Oh, that he would kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is more delightful than wine.

Take me with you—let us hurry.
Oh, that the king would bring me to his chambers.

Y We will rejoice and be glad for you;
we will praise your love more than wine.

W It is only right that they adore you.

Do not stare at me because I am dark,
for the sun has gazed on me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me;
they made me a keeper of the vineyards.
I have not kept my own vineyard.

Tell me, you, the one I love:
Where do you pasture your sheep?
Where do you let them rest at noon?
Why should I be like one who veils herself
beside the flocks of your companions?

I compare you, my darling,
to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.

W While the king is on his couch,
my perfume releases its fragrance.

My love is a sachet of myrrh to me,
spending the night between my breasts.

My love is a cluster of henna blossoms to me,
in the vineyards of En-gedi.

M How beautiful you are, my darling.
How very beautiful!
Your eyes are doves.

W How handsome you are, my love.
How delightful!
Our bed is lush with foliage;

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

W Like an apricot tree among the trees of the forest,
so is my love among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banquet hall,
and he looked on me with love.

Sustain me with raisins;
refresh me with apricots,
for I am lovesick.

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

Listen! My love is approaching.
Look! Here he comes,
leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.

My love is like a gazelle
or a young stag.
Look, he is standing behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice.

My love calls to me:

M Arise, my darling.
Come away, my beautiful one.

The fig tree ripens its figs;
the blossoming vines give off their fragrance.
Arise, my darling.
Come away, my beautiful one.

My dove, in the clefts of the rock,
in the crevices of the cliff,
let me see your face,
let me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is lovely.

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

Before the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
turn to me, my love, and be like a gazelle
or a young stag on the divided mountains.

>

In my bed at night
I sought the one I love;
I sought him, but did not find him.

The guards who go about the city found me.
I asked them, “Have you seen the one I love?”

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.

M How beautiful you are, my darling.
How very beautiful!
Behind your veil,
your eyes are doves.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down Mount Gilead.

Before the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
I will make my way to the mountain of myrrh
and the hill of frankincense.

You are absolutely beautiful, my darling,
with no imperfection in you.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride—
with me from Lebanon!
Descend from the peak of Amana,
from the summit of Senir and Hermon,
from the dens of the lions,
from the mountains of the leopards.

You have captured my heart, my sister, my bride.
You have captured my heart with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful your love is, my sister, my bride.
Your love is much better than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any balsam.

Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride.
Honey and milk are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

My sister, my bride, you are a locked garden—
a locked garden and a sealed spring.

W Awaken, north wind—
come, south wind.
Blow on my garden,
and spread the fragrance of its spices.
Let my love come to his garden
and eat its choicest fruits.

>

M I have come to my garden—my sister, my bride.
I gather my myrrh with my spices.
I eat my honeycomb with my honey.
I drink my wine with my milk.

N Eat, friends!
Drink, be intoxicated with love!

W I sleep, but my heart is awake.
A sound! My love is knocking!

M Open to me, my sister, my darling,
my dove, my perfect one.
For my head is drenched with dew,
my hair with droplets of the night.

W I have taken off my clothing.
How can I put it back on?
I have washed my feet.
How can I get them dirty?

My love thrust his hand through the opening,
and my feelings were stirred for him.

I rose to open for my love.
My hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh
on the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my love,
but my love had turned and gone away.
I was crushed that he had left.
I sought him, but did not find him.
I called him, but he did not answer.

The guards who go about the city found me.
They beat and wounded me;
they took my cloak from me—
the guardians of the walls.

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you:
if you find my love,
tell him that I am lovesick.

W My love is fit and strong,
notable among ten thousand.

His mouth is sweetness.
He is absolutely desirable.
This is my love, and this is my friend,
young women of Jerusalem.

>

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.

M You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling,
lovely as Jerusalem,
awe-inspiring as an army with banners.

Turn your eyes away from me,
for they captivate me.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down from Gilead.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique;
she is the favorite of her mother,
perfect to the one who gave her birth.
Women see her and declare her fortunate;
queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises:

Before I knew it,
my desire put me
among the chariots of my noble people.

Y Come back, come back, Shulammite!
Come back, come back, that we may look at you!

M Why are you looking at the Shulammite,
as you look at the dance of the two camps?

>

How beautiful you are and how pleasant,
my love, with such delights!

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.

Your mouth is like fine wine—

W flowing smoothly for my love,
gliding past my lips and teeth!

I belong to my love,
and his desire is for me.

Come, my love,
let’s go to the field;
let’s spend the night among the henna blossoms.

Let’s go early to the vineyards;
let’s see if the vine has budded,
if the blossom has opened,
if the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes give off a fragrance,
and at our doors is every delicacy—
new as well as old.
I have treasured them up for you, my love.

>

If only I could treat you like my brother,
one who nursed at my mother’s breasts,
I would find you in public and kiss you,
and no one would scorn me.

I would lead you, I would take you,
to the house of my mother who taught me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink
from my pomegranate juice.

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

Set me as a seal on your heart,
as a seal on your arm.
For love is as strong as death;
ardent love is as unrelenting as Sheol.
Love’s flames are fiery flames—
the fiercest of all.

W I am a wall
and my breasts like towers.
So in his eyes I have become
like one who finds peace.

I have my own vineyard.
The 1,000 are for you, Solomon,
but 200 for those who guard its fruits.

M You who dwell in the gardens—
companions are listening for your voice—
let me hear you!

W Hurry to me, my love,
and be like a gazelle
or a young stag
on the mountains of spices.