I am a rose of Sharon,
a lily of the valleys.

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

W Like an apricot tree among the trees of the forest,
so is my love among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banquet hall,
and he looked on me with love.

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

For now the winter is past;
the rain has ended and gone away.

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

Sustain me with raisins;
refresh me with apricots,
for I am lovesick.

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.

I opened to my love,
but my love had turned and gone away.
I was crushed that he had left.
I sought him, but did not find him.
I called him, but he did not answer.

Daughters of Jerusalem,
I am dark like the tents of Kedar,
yet lovely like the curtains of Solomon.

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.

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

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.

His left hand is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.

Listen! My love is approaching.
Look! Here he comes,
leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.

I had just passed them
when I found the one I love.
I held on to him and would not let him go
until I brought him to my mother’s house—
to the chamber of the one who conceived me.

If she is a wall,
we will build a silver parapet on it.
If she is a door,
we will enclose it with cedar planks.

M Like a lily among thorns,
so is my darling among the young women.

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

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?

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.

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

We will make gold jewelry for you,
accented with silver.

I compare you, my darling,
to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.

W My love is mine and I am his;
he feeds among the lilies.

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

W While the king is on his couch,
my perfume releases its fragrance.

The fig tree ripens its figs;
the blossoming vines give off their fragrance.
Arise, my darling.
Come away, my beautiful one.

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

>

My love is a sachet of myrrh to me,
spending the night between my breasts.

My love is a cluster of henna blossoms to me,
in the vineyards of En-gedi.

My love calls to me:

M Arise, my darling.
Come away, my beautiful one.

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.

W I am a wall
and my breasts like towers.
So in his eyes I have become
like one who finds peace.

Before the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
I will make my way to the mountain of myrrh
and the hill of frankincense.

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you:
if you find my love,
tell him that I am lovesick.

The guards who go about the city found me.
They beat and wounded me;
they took my cloak from me—
the guardians of the walls.

Solomon’s Finest Song.

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

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.

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

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

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.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride—
with me from Lebanon!
Descend from the peak of Amana,
from the summit of Senir and Hermon,
from the dens of the lions,
from the mountains of the leopards.

Your mouth is like fine wine—

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

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.

>

W My love is fit and strong,
notable among ten thousand.

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

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.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique;
she is the favorite of her mother,
perfect to the one who gave her birth.
Women see her and declare her fortunate;
queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises:

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

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

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.

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

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.

>

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?

>

Solomon owned a vineyard in Baal-hamon.
He leased the vineyard to tenants.
Each was to bring for his fruit
1,000 pieces of silver.

M I have come to my garden—my sister, my bride.
I gather my myrrh with my spices.
I eat my honeycomb with my honey.
I drink my wine with my milk.

N Eat, friends!
Drink, be intoxicated with love!

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.

Y What makes the one you love better than another,
most beautiful of women?
What makes him better than another,
that you would give us this charge?

N What is this coming up from the wilderness
like columns of smoke,
scented with myrrh and frankincense
from every fragrant powder of the merchant?

His mouth is sweetness.
He is absolutely desirable.
This is my love, and this is my friend,
young women of Jerusalem.

>

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.

I belong to my love,
and his desire is for me.

Come, my love,
let’s go to the field;
let’s spend the night among the henna blossoms.

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.

Y Who is this who shines like the dawn—
as beautiful as the moon,
bright as the sun,
awe-inspiring as an army with banners?

W I sleep, but my heart is awake.
A sound! My love is knocking!

M Open to me, my sister, my darling,
my dove, my perfect one.
For my head is drenched with dew,
my hair with droplets 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.

It is Solomon’s royal litter
surrounded by 60 warriors
from the mighty of Israel.

His head is purest gold.
His hair is wavy
and black as a raven.

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

nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,
with all the trees of frankincense,
myrrh and aloes,
with all the best spices.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

In my bed at night
I sought the one I love;
I sought him, but did not find him.

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

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.

Before I knew it,
my desire put me
among the chariots of my noble people.

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.

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

I am my love’s and my love is mine;
he feeds among the lilies.

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

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

W Awaken, north wind—
come, south wind.
Blow on my garden,
and spread the fragrance of its spices.
Let my love come to his garden
and eat its choicest fruits.

>

I would lead you, I would take you,
to the house of my mother who taught me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink
from my pomegranate juice.

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

If only I could treat you like my brother,
one who nursed at my mother’s breasts,
I would find you in public and kiss you,
and no one would scorn me.

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

King Solomon made a sedan chair for himself
with wood from Lebanon.

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

Come out, young women of Zion,
and gaze at King Solomon,
wearing the crown his mother placed on him
the day of his wedding—
the day of his heart’s rejoicing.

>

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

W I have taken off my clothing.
How can I put it back on?
I have washed my feet.
How can I get them dirty?

He made its posts of silver,
its back of gold,
and its seat of purple.
Its interior is inlaid with love
by the young women of Jerusalem.

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

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

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

His left hand is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.

I rose to open for my love.
My hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh
on the handles of the bolt.

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

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

W My love has gone down to his garden,
to beds of spice,
to feed in the gardens
and gather lilies.

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

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

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

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

The guards who go about the city found me.
I asked them, “Have you seen the one I love?”

I will arise now and go about the city,
through the streets and the plazas.
I will seek the one I love.
I sought him, but did not find him.

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

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

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