Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you feed, where you make your flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of your companions?

We will make you ornaments of gold with studs of silver.

How fair is your love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is your love than wine! and the fragrance of your perfume than all spices!

Make haste, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.