He shall kiss me from the kisses of his mouth: for thy good breasts are above wine.

Thou shalt not see me, I am black; the sun searched me: my mother's sons were angry with me; they set me to watch the vineyards; my vineyard I watched not for me.

Announce to me, thou whom my soul loved, where thou wilt feed, where thou wilt lie down at noon: wherefore shall I be as he covered by the herds of thy companions.

Thy cheeks were beautiful with with rows, thy neck with strings of pearls.

Behold thee fair, my friend; behold thee beautiful; thine eyes are doves'.

Behold thee beautiful, my beloved, also pleasant: also our bed is green.

The walls of our houses cedars, our carved ceilings, cypresses.

I adjured you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, if ye shall awake and if ye shall arouse love till he shall desire.

My beloved is like to the roe or to the fawn of the hinds: behold him standing behind our wall looking forth from the windows, glancing from the lattices.

The flowers were seen in the earth; the time of pruning came, and the voice of the turtle-dove was heard in our land.

The fig tree ripened its unripe figs, and the vines are in blossom; they gave an odor. Rise up, my friend, my beautiful one, and go for thyself.

Seize for us the foxes, the little foxes destroying the vineyards: and our vineyards are in blossom.

Until the day shall breathe and the shadows fled away, turn, thou, it being likened to thee, my beloved, to the roe, or to the fawn of the hind upon the mountains of section.

All of them holding the sword, being trained to war: each his sword upon his thigh from terror in the night

How beautiful were thy breasts, my sister, O bride! how good were thy breasts above wine, and the odor of thine ointments above all spices.

My beloved sent his hand from the hole, and my bowels were disquieted for him.

Where went thy beloved, O beautiful one among women? where turned away thy beloved, and we will seek him with thee.

They are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens no number.

How beautiful were thy steps with shoes, O daughter of a noble! the circuits of thy thighs a necklace, the work of the hands of an artist.

The mandrakes gave an odor, and upon our entrances all precious things, new also old, my beloved, I laid up for thee.

A little sister to us, and no breasts to her: what shall we do for our sister in the day it shall be spoken for her?

Flee, my beloved, and be it likened to thee to the roe or to the fawn of the hinds upon the mountains of spices.