HEO my dove! In the retreats of the crag, in the hiding-place of the terrace, Let me see thy form, Let me hear thy voice, - For, thy voice, is sweet, and, thy form, comely.

Come! I must arise, and go about in the city, In the paths and in the broadways, I must seek the beloved of my soul, - I sought him, but found him not.

The watchmen that go round in the city, found me, The beloved of my soul, have ye seen?

DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEMWhither hath thy beloved, gone, thou most beautiful among women? whither hath thy beloved turned him aside? That we may seek him with thee.

One alone, is my dove, my perfect one, one alone, was she to her mother, Pure, was she to her that bare her, - The daughters, have seen her, and pronounced her happy, Queens and concubines, and they have praised her.

HETo the garden of nuts, I went down, to look at the fresh shoots of the ravine, - to see whether: had burst forth the vine, had blossomed the pomegranate: -

Let us get up early to the vineyards, Let us see whether the vine, hath burst forth, the blossom, hath opened, the pomegranates, have bloomed, - There, will I give my caresses to thee.