My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock , Where thou makest it to rest at noon: For why should I be as one that is veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?

If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, And feed thy kids beside the shepherds tents.

Thy two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.

My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feeds his flock among the lilies.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feeds his flock among the lilies.

Feed me with raisin cakes, comfort me with apples, for I am sick with love.