A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; a locked up spring, a sealed fountain.

Awake, north wind; and come, you south! Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and taste his precious fruits. Lover

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Friends Eat, friends! Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved. Beloved

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.