His cheeks are like a bed of spices, like sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dripping sweet smelling myrrh.

And the roof of your mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goes down sweetly, flowing gently over lips and teeth.

Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your mouth is lovely: your temples are like a piece of pomegranate behind your veil.

Your lips, O my spouse, drop like the honeycomb: honey and milk are under your tongue; and the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

Your navel is like a round goblet, which lacks not blended drink: your belly is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies.

Your head crowns you like Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purple; the king is held captive by your tresses.