While the king sat at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance.

Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I am sick with love.

Its pillars he made of silver, Its support of gold, Its seat of purple; The midst thereof was paved with love By the daughters of Jerusalem.

The fruits that sprout in thee are like a very Paradise of pomegranates with sweet fruits:

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.

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