Your stomach is a store of grain with lilies round it, and in the middle a round cup full of wine.

Set about me cups of wine, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; to take my myrrh with my spice; my wax with my honey; my wine with my milk. Take meat, O friends; take wine, yes, be overcome with love.

{I would surely bring you} to the house of my mother, {who would surely teach me}; {I would give you spiced wine to drink}, the {sweet wine} of my pomegranates.