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Friends
How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? How is your beloved better than others, that you so charge us?
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She
My beloved is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
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His eyes are like doves by the water streams, washed in milk, mounted like jewels.
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His cheeks are like beds of spice yielding perfume. His lips are like lilies dripping with myrrh.
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His arms are rods of gold set with topaz. His body is like polished ivory decorated with lapis lazuli.
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His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars.
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His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
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She
My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies.
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Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing. Each has its twin, not one of them is missing.
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Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number;
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but my dove, my perfect one, is unique, the only daughter of her mother, the favorite of the one who bore her. The young women saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her.
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Friends
Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, majestic as the stars in procession?
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He
I went down to the grove of nut trees to look at the new growth in the valley, to see if the vines had budded or the pomegranates were in bloom.
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Before I realized it, my desire set me among the royal chariots of my people.
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Friends
Come back, come back, O Shulammite; come back, come back, that we may gaze on you! He
Why would you gaze on the Shulammite as on the dance of Mahanaim?
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How beautiful your sandaled feet, O prince’s daughter! Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of an artist’s hands.
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Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit.
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I said, “I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.” May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples,
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and your mouth like the best wine.
She
May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.
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Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside, let us spend the night in the villages.
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Let us go early to the vineyards to see if the vines have budded, if their blossoms have opened, and if the pomegranates are in bloom— there I will give you my love.
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The mandrakes send out their fragrance, and at our door is every delicacy, both new and old, that I have stored up for you, my beloved.
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I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house— she who has taught me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of my pomegranates.
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Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.
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Friends
Who is this coming up from the wilderness leaning on her beloved? She
Under the apple tree I roused you; there your mother conceived you, there she who was in labor gave you birth.
