My beloved is to me a pouch of myrrh that lies between my breasts all night.

I wish that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand were embracing me!

Swear to me, young women of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the does of the field, that you won't awaken or arouse love before its proper time!

Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that destroy the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom."

Swear to me, young women of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the does of the field, that you won't awaken or arouse love before its proper time!

I charge you, young women of Jerusalem, "If you find my beloved, what are you to tell him? Tell him that I'm weak with love."

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

Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks mixed wine. Your abdomen is a bundle of wheat, enclosed by lilies.

The mandrakes give off their fragrance, and over our doors are all the choice fruits, both old and new, that I've stored up for you, my beloved.

Swear to me, young women of Jerusalem, that you won't awaken or arouse love before its proper time!

Set me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, passion as intense as Sheol. The flames of love are flames of fire, a blaze that comes from the LORD.