As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.

His left hand is under my head, And his right hand doth embrace me.

Your red lips are like a bright thread, and your mouth is fair of form; the sides of your head are like pomegranate fruit under your veil.

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

Like pomegranate fruit are the sides of your head under your veil.

His left hand would be under my head, And his right hand embrace me.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? I awoke thee under the apple-tree: There thy mother brought thee forth; There she brought thee forth that bore thee.