W Oh, that he would kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is more delightful than wine.

The fragrance of your perfume is intoxicating;
your name is perfume poured out.
No wonder young women adore you.

Take me with you—let us hurry.
Oh, that the king would bring me to his chambers.

Y We will rejoice and be glad for you;
we will praise your love more than wine.

W It is only right that they adore you.

Do not stare at me because I am dark,
for the sun has gazed on me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me;
they made me a keeper of the vineyards.
I have not kept my own vineyard.

Tell me, you, the one I love:
Where do you pasture your sheep?
Where do you let them rest at noon?
Why should I be like one who veils herself
beside the flocks of your companions?

M If you do not know,
most beautiful of women,
follow the tracks of the flock,
and pasture your young goats
near the shepherds’ tents.

Your cheeks are beautiful with jewelry,
your neck with its necklace.

M How beautiful you are, my darling.
How very beautiful!
Your eyes are doves.

W How handsome you are, my love.
How delightful!
Our bed is lush with foliage;

the beams of our house are cedars,
and our rafters are cypresses.

>

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you
by the gazelles and the wild does of the field:
do not stir up or awaken love
until the appropriate time.

My love is like a gazelle
or a young stag.
Look, he is standing behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice.

The blossoms appear in the countryside.
The time of singing has come,
and the turtledove’s cooing is heard in our land.

My dove, in the clefts of the rock,
in the crevices of the cliff,
let me see your face,
let me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is lovely.

(W) Catch the foxes for us—
the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—
for our vineyards are in bloom.

Before the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
turn to me, my love, and be like a gazelle
or a young stag on the divided mountains.

>

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you
by the gazelles and the wild does of the field:
do not stir up or awaken love
until the appropriate time.

All of them are skilled with swords
and trained in warfare.
Each has his sword at his side
to guard against the terror of the night.

M How beautiful you are, my darling.
How very beautiful!
Behind your veil,
your eyes are doves.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn sheep
coming up from washing,
each one having a twin,
and not one missing.

Your lips are like a scarlet cord,
and your mouth is lovely.
Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

Your neck is like the tower of David,
constructed in layers.
A thousand bucklers are hung on it—
all of them shields of warriors.

Your breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle, that feed among the lilies.

You are absolutely beautiful, my darling,
with no imperfection in you.

You have captured my heart, my sister, my bride.
You have captured my heart with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful your love is, my sister, my bride.
Your love is much better than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any balsam.

Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride.
Honey and milk are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

My sister, my bride, you are a locked garden—
a locked garden and a sealed spring.

Your branches are a paradise of pomegranates
with choicest fruits,
henna with nard—

You are a garden spring,
a well of flowing water
streaming from Lebanon.

My love thrust his hand through the opening,
and my feelings were stirred for him.

His eyes are like doves
beside streams of water,
washed in milk
and set like jewels.

His cheeks are like beds of spice,
towers of perfume.
His lips are lilies,
dripping with flowing myrrh.

His arms are rods of gold
set with topaz.
His body is an ivory panel
covered with sapphires.

His legs are alabaster pillars
set on pedestals of pure gold.
His presence is like Lebanon,
as majestic as the cedars.

Y Where has your love gone,
most beautiful of women?
Which way has he turned?
We will seek him with you.

M You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling,
lovely as Jerusalem,
awe-inspiring as an army with banners.

Turn your eyes away from me,
for they captivate me.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down from Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes
coming up from washing,
each one having a twin,
and not one missing.

Behind your veil,
your brow is like a slice of pomegranate.

There are 60 queens
and 80 concubines
and young women without number.

W I came down to the walnut grove
to see the blossoms of the valley,
to see if the vines were budding
and the pomegranates blooming.

Y Come back, come back, Shulammite!
Come back, come back, that we may look at you!

M Why are you looking at the Shulammite,
as you look at the dance of the two camps?

>

How beautiful are your sandaled feet, princess!
The curves of your thighs are like jewelry,
the handiwork of a master.

Your navel is a rounded bowl;
it never lacks mixed wine.
Your waist is a mound of wheat
surrounded by lilies.

Your breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory,
your eyes like pools in Heshbon
by the gate of Bath-rabbim.
Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon
looking toward Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel,
the hair of your head like purple cloth—
a king could be held captive in your tresses.

How beautiful you are and how pleasant,
my love, with such delights!

Your stature is like a palm tree;
your breasts are clusters of fruit.

I said, “I will climb the palm tree
and take hold of its fruit.”
May your breasts be like clusters of grapes,
and the fragrance of your breath like apricots.

Your mouth is like fine wine—

W flowing smoothly for my love,
gliding past my lips and teeth!

Let’s go early to the vineyards;
let’s see if the vine has budded,
if the blossom has opened,
if the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes give off a fragrance,
and at our doors is every delicacy—
new as well as old.
I have treasured them up for you, my love.

>

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you:
do not stir up or awaken love
until the appropriate time.

Y Who is this coming up from the wilderness,
leaning on the one she loves?

W I awakened you under the apricot tree.
There your mother conceived you;
there she conceived and gave you birth.

Set me as a seal on your heart,
as a seal on your arm.
For love is as strong as death;
ardent love is as unrelenting as Sheol.
Love’s flames are fiery flames—
the fiercest of all.

Mighty waters cannot extinguish love;
rivers cannot sweep it away.
If a man were to give all his wealth for love,
it would be utterly scorned.

B Our sister is young;
she has no breasts.
What will we do for our sister
on the day she is spoken for?

I have my own vineyard.
The 1,000 are for you, Solomon,
but 200 for those who guard its fruits.

M You who dwell in the gardens—
companions are listening for your voice—
let me hear you!

W Hurry to me, my love,
and be like a gazelle
or a young stag
on the mountains of spices.