Take me with you! Let's run away! Let the king bring me into his private chambers. The daughters of Jerusalem will rejoice and be happy for you. We will value your love more than wine. They love you appropriately.

Don't stare at me because I'm dark; the sun has tanned me. My mother's sons were angry with me. They made me the caretaker of the vineyards, but I didn't take care of my own vineyard.

If you don't know, most beautiful of women, go out after the flock and graze your young goats beside the shepherd's tents.

My darling, I compare you to a mare among Pharaoh's chariots.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes are doves.

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

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. In his shade I take delight and sit down, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

The voice of my beloved! Look! He's coming, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.

I had just passed them when I found the one I love. I held him and wouldn't let him go until I brought him to my mother's house, to the room of the one who conceived me.

Look! It's Solomon's sedan chair, with 60 of the best soldiers in Israel surrounding it.

Come out, young women of Zion, and see King Solomon with the crown with which his mother crowned him on his wedding day his day of great delight.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes behind your veil are doves, your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

I was asleep, but my heart was awake. There's a sound! My beloved is knocking. "Open up for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. For my head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

What is so special about your beloved, most beautiful of women? What is so special about your beloved, that you charge us like this?

Where did your beloved go, most beautiful of women? Where did your beloved turn, so we may look for him with you?

but my dove, my perfect one, is unique. She's unique to her mother, she's pure to the one who gave birth to her. Young women see her and call her blessed, queens and mistresses praise her.

I went down to the walnut orchard, to look at the green sprouts in the valley, to see whether the vine had budded, whether the pomegranates had blossomed.

Return, return, Shulammite, return, return, so we may look at you! Why should you look at the Shulammite, like you watch the dance of the two camps?

How beautiful are your feet in sandals, noble lady. The curves of your thighs are like ornaments, the work of a skilled artist's hands.

Let us go early to the vineyards, let us see whether the vine has budded, whether the blossom has opened, whether the pomegranates have bloomed. There I'll give you my love.

If only you were like a brother to me, like one who nursed at my mother's breasts. If I found you outside I would kiss you, and no one would view me with contempt.

If she's a wall, on her we will build a battlement of silver. If she's a door, we will enclose her with planks of cedar.