The Song of Songs, that [is] of Solomon. Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth, || For better [are] your loves than wine. For fragrance [are] your good perfumes. Perfume emptied out—your name, || Therefore have virgins loved you! Draw me: we run after you, || The king has brought me into his inner chambers, || We delight and rejoice in you, || We mention your loves more than wine, || Uprightly they have loved you! I [am] dark and lovely, daughters of Jerusalem, as tents of Kedar, as curtains of Solomon. Do not fear me, because I [am] very dark, || Because the sun has scorched me, || The sons of my mother were angry with me, || They made me keeper of the vineyards, || My vineyard—my own—I have not kept. Declare to me, you whom my soul has loved, || Where you delight, || Where you lie down at noon, || For why am I as one veiled, || By the ranks of your companions? If you do not know, || O beautiful among women, || Go forth by the traces of the flock, || And feed your kids by the shepherds’ dwellings! To my joyous one in chariots of Pharaoh, I have compared you, my friend, Your cheeks have been lovely with garlands, your neck with chains. We make garlands of gold for you, with studs of silver! While the king [is] in his circle, || My spikenard has given its fragrance. A bundle of myrrh [is] my beloved to me, || Between my breasts it lodges. A cluster of cypress [is] my beloved to me, || In the vineyards of En-Gedi! Behold, you [are] beautiful, my friend, || Behold, you [are] beautiful, your eyes [are] doves! Behold, you [are] beautiful, my love, indeed, pleasant, || Indeed, our bed [is] green, The beams of our houses [are] cedars, || Our rafters [are] firs, I [am] a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys!
As a lily among the thorns, So [is] my friend among the daughters! As a citron among trees of the forest, || So [is] my beloved among the sons, || In his shade I delighted, and sat down, || And his fruit [is] sweet to my palate. He has brought me to a house of wine, || And his banner over me [is] love, Sustain me with grape-cakes, || Support me with citrons, for I [am] sick with love. His left hand [is] under my head, || And his right embraces me. I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, || By the roes or by the does of the field, || Do not stir up nor wake the love until she pleases! The voice of my beloved! Behold, this—he is coming, || Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills. My beloved [is] like to a roe, || Or to a young one of the harts. Behold, this—he is standing behind our wall, || Looking from the windows, || Blooming from the lattice. My beloved has answered and said to me, || “Rise up, my friend, my beautiful one, and come away, For behold, the winter has passed by, || The rain has passed away—it has gone. The flowers have appeared in the earth, || The time of the singing has come, || And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land, The fig tree has ripened her green figs, || And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, || Rise, come, my friend, my beautiful one, indeed, come away. My dove, in clefts of the rock, || In a secret place of the ascent, || Cause me to see your appearance, || Cause me to hear your voice, || For your voice [is] sweet, and your appearance lovely.” Seize for us foxes, || Little foxes—destroyers of vineyards, || Even our sweet-smelling vineyards. My beloved [is] mine, and I [am] his, || Who is delighting among the lilies, Until the day breaks forth, || And the shadows have fled away, || Turn, be like, my beloved, || To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, || On the mountains of separation!
On my bed by night, I sought him whom my soul has loved; I sought him, and I did not find him! Now let me rise, and go around the city, || In the streets and in the broad places, || I seek him whom my soul has loved! I sought him, and I did not find him. The watchmen have found me || (Who are going around the city), || “Have you seen him whom my soul has loved?” But I passed on a little from them, || Until I found him whom my soul has loved! I seized him, and did not let him go, || Until I brought him to the house of my mother—And the chamber of her that conceived me. I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, || By the roes or by the does of the field, || Do not stir up nor wake the love until she pleases! Who [is] this coming up from the wilderness, || Like palm-trees of smoke, || Perfumed [with] myrrh and frankincense, || From every powder of the merchant? Behold, his couch, that [is] of Solomon, || Sixty mighty ones [are] around it, || Of the mighty of Israel, All of them holding sword, taught of battle, || Each his sword by his thigh, for fear at night. A palanquin King Solomon made for himself, || Of the wood of Lebanon, Its pillars he made of silver, || Its bottom of gold, its seat of purple, || Its midst lined [with] love, || By the daughters of Jerusalem. Go forth, and look, you daughters of Zion, || On King Solomon, with the crown, || With which his mother crowned him, || In the day of his espousals, || And in the day of the joy of his heart!
Behold, you [are] beautiful, my friend, behold, you [are] beautiful, || Your eyes [are] doves behind your veil, || Your hair as a row of the goats that have shone from Mount Gilead, Your teeth as a row of the shorn ones that have come up from the washing, || For all of them are forming twins, || And a bereaved one is not among them. As a thread of scarlet [are] your lips, || And your speech [is] lovely, || As the work of the pomegranate [is] your temple behind your veil, As the Tower of David [is] your neck, built for an armory, || The chief of the shields are hung on it, || All shields of the mighty. Your two breasts [are] as two fawns, || Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies. Until the day breaks forth, || And the shadows have fled away, || I go for myself to the mountain of myrrh, || And to the hill of frankincense. You [are] all beautiful, my friend, || And there is not a blemish in you. Come from Lebanon, O spouse, Come from Lebanon, come in. Look from the top of Amana, || From the top of Shenir and Hermon, || From the habitations of lions, || From the mountains of leopards. You have emboldened me, my sister-spouse, || Emboldened me with one of your eyes, || With one chain of your neck. How beautiful have been your loves, my sister-spouse, || How much better have been your loves than wine, || And the fragrance of your perfumes than all spices. Your lips drop honey, O spouse, || Honey and milk [are] under your tongue, || And the fragrance of your garments || [Is] as the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden shut up [is] my sister-spouse, || A spring shut up—a fountain sealed. Your shoots a paradise of pomegranates, || With precious fruits, Cypresses with nard—nard and saffron, || Cane and cinnamon, || With all trees of frankincense, || Myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices. A fount of gardens, a well of living waters, || And flowings from Lebanon! Awake, O north wind, and come, O south, || Cause my garden to breathe forth, its spices let flow, || Let my beloved come to his garden, || And eat its pleasant fruits!
I have come to my garden, my sister-spouse, || I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, || I have eaten my comb with my honey, || I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, || Indeed, drink abundantly, O beloved ones! I am sleeping, but my heart wakes: The sound of my beloved knocking! “Open to me, my sister, my friend, || My dove, my perfect one, || For my head is filled [with] dew, || My locks [with] drops of the night.” I have put off my coat, how do I put it on? I have washed my feet, how do I defile them? My beloved sent his hand from the network, || And my bowels were moved for him. I rose to open to my beloved, || And my hands dripped myrrh, || Indeed, my fingers were flowing [with] myrrh, || On the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved, || But my beloved withdrew—he passed on, || My soul went forth when he spoke, I sought him, and did not find him. I called him, and he did not answer me. The watchmen who go around the city, || Found me, struck me, wounded me, || Keepers of the walls lifted up my veil from off me. I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, || If you find my beloved—What do you tell him? that I [am] sick with love! What [is] your beloved above [any] beloved, || O beautiful among women? What [is] your beloved above [any] beloved, || That thus you have adjured us? My beloved [is] clear and ruddy, || Conspicuous above a myriad! His head [is] pure gold—fine gold, || His locks flowing, dark as a raven, His eyes as doves by streams of water, || Washing in milk, sitting in fullness. His cheeks [are] as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, || His lips—lilies, dripping [and] flowing [with] myrrh, His hands rings of gold, set with beryl, || His heart bright ivory, covered with sapphires, His limbs pillars of marble, || Founded on sockets of fine gold, || His appearance as Lebanon, choice as the cedars. His mouth is sweetness—and all of him desirable, || This [is] my beloved, and this my friend, || O daughters of Jerusalem!
To where has your beloved gone, || O beautiful among women? To where has your beloved turned, || And we seek him with you? My beloved went down to his garden, || To the beds of the spice, || To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies. I [am] my beloved’s, and my beloved [is] mine, || Who is delighting himself among the lilies. You [are] beautiful, my friend, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, || Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts. Turn around your eyes from before me, || Because they have made me proud. Your hair [is] as a row of the goats, || That have shone from Gilead, Your teeth as a row of the lambs, || That have come up from the washing, || Because all of them are forming twins, || And a bereaved one is not among them. As the work of the pomegranate [is] your temple behind your veil. Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, || And virgins without number. One is my dove, my perfect one, || She [is] one of her mother, || She [is] the choice one of her that bore her, || Daughters saw, and pronounce her blessed, || Queens and concubines, and they praise her. “Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, || Beautiful as the moon—clear as the sun, || Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?” To a garden of nuts I went down, || To look on the buds of the valley, || To see to where the vine had flourished, || The pomegranates had blossomed— I did not know my soul, || It made me—chariots of my people Nadib. Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look on you. What do you see in Shulammith?
As the chorus of “Mahanaim.” How beautiful were your feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of your sides [are] as ornaments, || Work of the hands of a craftsman. Your waist [is] a basin of roundness, || It does not lack the mixture, || Your body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies, Your two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe, Your neck as a tower of the ivory, || Your eyes pools in Heshbon, near the Gate of Bath-Rabbim, || Your face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus, Your head on you as Carmel, || And the locks of your head as purple, || The king is bound with the flowings! How beautiful and how pleasant you have been, || O love, in delights. This your stature has been like to a palm, || And your breasts to clusters. I said, “Let me go up on the palm, || Let me lay hold on its boughs,” || Indeed, let your breasts now be as clusters of the vine, || And the fragrance of your face as citrons, And your palate as the good wine—Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, || Strengthening the lips of the aged! I [am] my beloved’s, and on me [is] his desire. Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field, We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, || We see if the vine has flourished, || The sweet smelling-flower has opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, || There I give to you my loves; The mandrakes have given fragrance, || And at our openings all pleasant things, || New, indeed, old, my beloved, I laid up for you!
Who makes you as a brother to me, || Suckling the breasts of my mother? I find you outside, I kiss you, || Indeed, they do not despise me, I lead you, I bring you into my mother’s house, || She teaches me, I cause you to drink of the spiced wine, || Of the juice of my pomegranate, His left hand [is] under my head, || And his right embraces me. I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, || How you stir up, || And how you wake the love until she pleases! Who [is] this coming from the wilderness, || Hastening herself for her beloved? Under the citron-tree I have awoken you, || There your mother pledged you, || There she [who] bore you gave a pledge. Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm, || For strong as death is love, || Sharp as Sheol is jealousy, || Its burnings [are] burnings of fire, a flame of Yah! Many waters are not able to quench the love, || And floods do not wash it away. If one gives all the wealth of his house for love, || Treading down—they tread on it. We have a little sister, and she does not have breasts, || What do we do for our sister, || In the day that it is told of her? If she is a wall, we build by her a palace of silver. And if she is a door, || We fashion by her board-work of cedar. I [am] a wall, and my breasts as towers, || Then I have been in his eyes as one finding peace. Solomon has a vineyard in Ba‘al-Hamon, || He has given the vineyard to keepers, || Each brings for its fruit one thousand pieces of silver; My vineyard—my own—is before me, || The one thousand [is] for you, O Solomon. And the two hundred for those keeping its fruit. O dweller in gardens! The companions are attending to your voice, || Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts on mountains of spices!