A Bride Sings of Her Lover

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine.

Draw me after you, let us run! The king has brought me into his chambers.

Chorus: Daughters of Zion

Let us rejoice and be glad in you; let us extol your love more than wine. Rightly do they love you!

How handsome you are, my lover! Oh, so delightful! Yes, our couch is luxuriant.

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my lover among the sons. In his shadow I delighted to sit, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

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

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you, by the gazelles and does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it delights.

The voice of my lover! Behold, he is coming— leaping over the mountains, springing over the hills!

My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in a secret place along the steep path, let me see your form, let me hear your voice. For your voice is sweet and your form is lovely.”

Hardly had I passed beyond them when I found the one my soul loves. I held him, and I would not let him go, until I brought him to my mother’s house, to the chamber of her who conceived me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you, by the gazelles and does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it delights.

King Solomon has made for himself a carriage from the trees of Lebanon.

The King Delights in His Bride

How lovely you are, my darling, how lovely! Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of ewe goats descending down from Mount Gilead.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Watch from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, even Hermon, from lions’ dens, from mountains of leopards.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your oils better than all spices!

Your lips, my bride, drip honey from the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under your tongue. The scent of your garments is like the aroma of Lebanon.

a garden spring, a well of living water and flowing streams from Lebanon.

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, Let its fragrance spread out. Let my lover come into his garden and eat its choicest fruit.

I sleep, but my heart is awake. A voice! My lover is knocking! “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with dew, my locks with dewdrops of night.”

I opened to my lover— but my lover had departed, he was gone! My soul went out to him when he spoke. I searched for him, but did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer me.

His legs are pillars of alabaster set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon— excellent like the cedars.

His mouth is sweetness. Yes, he is totally desirable. This is my lover! Yes, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Turn your eyes away from me, for they overwhelm me! Your hair is like a flock of ewe goats descending down from Gilead.

Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes are pools in Heshbon near the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.

How beautiful and how pleasing you are, O Love, with your delights!

I am my lover’s, and his desire is for me.