My beloved, thrust in his hand, at the window, and, my feelings, were deeply moved for him:

The love-apples, have given fragrance, and, at our openings, are all precious things, new and yet old, - O my beloved! I have treasured them up for thee.

Resembleth, my beloved, a gazelle, or a young stag, - Lo! here he is, standing behind our wall, looking in at the windows, peeping in at the lattice.