Song of Songs

All the space is lined with love by the daughters of Jerusalem. Go out and see, daughters of Zion, look at Solomon the king, in the crown his mother gave to him, on this his wedding day; on the day his heart rejoiced. [He] How beautiful you are, my love, how beautiful, your eyes like doves seen through your tresses; your hair like a flock of goats flowing down Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep, rising up from cleaning, each bearing twins, two and two, not one among them lost. Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon, and your speech is fair; your forehead, like a pomegranate glowing through your tresses. Your neck is like the Tower of David, built in splendor, a thousand shields adorning it, the shields of all the heroes. Your two breasts are like young twins of a she-gazelle, pasturing in lilies. Until the day has breathed its light, and the shadows have flown, I am going to the hill of myrrh, to the slopes of frankincense. And all of you is beauty, my love, is flawless; wholly. Come with me from Lebanon, bride, come down with me from Lebanon; from the peak of Amana descend, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, from the lions’ haunts, the leopards’ hills. You have taken my heart, my sister, my bride; either one of your eyes would take my heart, any strand of the necklace you wear. How beautiful your love is, my sister, my bride, how much better than any wine your love, and finer than all perfumes the scent of your oils. Your lips drip nectar, my bride; honey and milk lie under your tongue, and on your dress lingers Lebanon’s scent. A locked garden is my sister, my bride, a locked well, a spring sealed up - yet your dry ground is a grove of pomegranates, of the sweetest of fruits, henna plants, musk-root; musk-root and saffron, calamus, cinnamon, every kind of fragrant tree. With myrrh plants and aloe, with all the finest spices; and a spring to water gardens, a well of living waters, waters flowing down from Lebanon. [She] Wake now, north wind, south wind, come: breathe life into my garden, let its perfumes flow. Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat his sweetest fruits. [He] I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh and my balsam, I have eaten my honeycomb with honey, I have drunk my wine with milk - [Friends] Eat, loved ones, eat; drink, drink deep of love. [She] I am asleep; my heart is awake - my beloved’s voice, knocking - “Open for me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfection, for my head is covered with dew, my locks with fragments of the night.” “I have taken off my dress.”