Thy sendings forth a park of pomegranates, with most precious fruits, cypresses with spikenards,

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south, blow upon my garden; its spices shall flow out. My beloved shall come to his garden, and he shall eat his most precious fruits.

The mandrakes gave an odor, and upon our entrances all precious things, new also old, my beloved, I laid up for thee.