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 under my head, then, his right hand, embraceth 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.

With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, - Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

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

His left hand under my head, then, his right hand, embraceth me.

Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, Leaning upon her beloved? Under the apple-tree I awakened thee: There thy mother was in travail with thee, There was she in travail that brought thee forth.