The fragrance of your colognes is delightful; your name is like the finest perfume. No wonder the young women adore you!

The Beloved to the Maidens: I am dark but lovely, O maidens of Jerusalem, dark like the tents of Qedar, lovely like the tent curtains of Salmah.

The Lover to His Beloved: O my beloved, you are like a mare among Pharaoh's stallions.

My beloved is like a fragrant pouch of myrrh spending the night between my breasts.

My beloved is like a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-Gedi.

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, how beautiful you are, my beloved! Oh, how beautiful you are! Your eyes are like doves!

The Lover to His Beloved: Like a lily among the thorns, so is my darling among the maidens.

The Beloved about Her Lover: Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

The Beloved about Her Lover: Listen! My lover is approaching! Look! Here he comes, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills!

My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the window, peering through the lattice.

Look! The winter has passed, the winter rains are over and gone.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved -- be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountain gorges.

"I will arise and look all around throughout the town, and throughout the streets and squares; I will search for my beloved." I searched for him but I did not find him.

The Speaker: Who is this coming up from the desert like a column of smoke, like a fragrant billow of myrrh and frankincense, every kind of fragrant powder of the traveling merchants?

Look! It is Solomon's portable couch! It is surrounded by sixty warriors, some of Israel's mightiest warriors.

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, you are beautiful, my darling! Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. Your hair is like a flock of female goats descending from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of newly-shorn sheep coming up from the washing place; each of them has a twin, and not one of them is missing.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread; your mouth is lovely. Your forehead behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.

Your neck is like the tower of David built with courses of stones; one thousand shields are hung on it -- all shields of valiant warriors.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of the gazelle grazing among the lilies.

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.

I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh -- my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.

His head is like the most pure gold. His hair is curly -- black like a raven.

His eyes are like doves by streams of water, washed in milk, mounted like jewels.

His cheeks are like garden beds full of balsam trees yielding perfume. His lips are like lilies dripping with drops of myrrh.

His arms are like rods of gold set with chrysolite. His abdomen is like polished ivory inlaid with sapphires.

His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars.

Turn your eyes away from me -- they overwhelm me! Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin; not one of them is missing.

Like a slice of pomegranate is your forehead behind your veil.

"Who is this who appears like the dawn? Beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awe-inspiring as the stars in procession?"

The Lover to His Beloved: I went down to the orchard of walnut trees, to look for the blossoms of the valley, to see if the vines had budded or if the pomegranates were in bloom.

The Lover to His Beloved: Turn, turn, O Perfect One! Turn, turn, that I may stare at you! The Beloved to Her Lover: Why do you gaze upon the Perfect One like the dance of the Mahanaim?

The Lover to His Beloved: How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O nobleman's daughter! The curves of your thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a master craftsman.

Your navel is a round mixing bowl -- may it never lack mixed wine! Your belly is a mound of wheat, encircled by lilies.

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

Your neck is like a tower made of ivory. Your eyes are the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. The locks of your hair are like royal tapestries -- the king is held captive in its tresses!

The Lover to His Beloved: Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like clusters of grapes.

I want to climb the palm tree, and take hold of its fruit stalks. May your breasts be like the clusters of grapes, and may the fragrance of your breath be like apricots!

May your mouth be like the best wine, flowing smoothly for my beloved, gliding gently over our lips as we sleep together.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Set me like a cylinder seal over your heart, like a signet on your arm. For love is as strong as death, passion is as unrelenting as Sheol. Its flames burst forth, it is a blazing flame.

The Beloved: I was a wall, and my breasts were like fortress towers. Then I found favor in his eyes.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Make haste, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices.