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You are altogether beautiful, my love. your eyes are dove-like.
You are altogether beautiful, my love. your eyes are dove-like. The Song of Songs by Solomon.
O that he would kiss me with his lips! Indeed, your caresses are better than wine. Sweet is the fragrance of your perfumes; your very self is a precious perfume; therefore do the maidens love you. Take me with you; let us hasten! The king brings me into his chambers. We will thrill with delight over you; we will celebrate your caresses more than wine! Rightly do they love you.
I am dark yet comely, maidens of Jerusalem: dark as the tents of Kedar, comely as the curtains of Solomon. Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has tanned me; my mother’s sons were angry with me, they made me keeper of the vineyards; I did not look after my own vineyard.
Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you feed the flocks, where you make them rest at noon; why should I wander among the flocks of your companions?
If you do not know, fairest of women, follow the sheep-tracks, and pasture your kids beside the tents of the shepherds. I compare you, my love, to a mare in Pharaoh’s chariots. Beautiful are your cheeks with circlets, your neck with strings of beads! Circlets of gold will we make for you, with studs of silver.
While the king sits at his table, my nard gives forth its fragrance. My beloved is my bunch of myrrh that lies between my breasts. My beloved is my cluster of henna-blossom from the gardens of Engedi.
You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful; your eyes are dove-like.
You are handsome, my beloved, and pleasant; and our couch is leafy. The beams of our houses are cedars, and our rafters are firs.
I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the maidens.
Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the youths; in his shadow I long to sit, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. He brings me to the house of wine, and looks at me with love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am love-sick. O that his left hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me! I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it please.
The voice of my beloved! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills! My beloved is like a gazelle, like a young deer; here he stands, behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.
My beloved called and said to me: “Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. For, lo, the winter is over, the rain is past and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of song has come; and the call of the turtle-dove is heard in our land; the fig-tree is ripening its early figs, and the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance. Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the cliff, let me see your form, let me hear your voice; for sweet is your voice, and your form is comely.
Seize us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom.
My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feeds his flock among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, return, my beloved, and be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountains of Bether.
On my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but I did not find him. “I will rise [I said] and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares—I will seek him whom my soul loves.” I sought him, but I did not find him. The watchmen who go about the city found me: “Have you seen him whom my soul loves?” Scarcely had I left them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go, until I brought him into my mother’s house, into the chamber of her who conceived me.
I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it please.
What is this coming up from the wilderness, like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all aromatic powders of the merchant? It is Solomon’s palanquin; sixty heroes are around it, heroes of Israel. All of them are armed with swords, and are trained in war; each has his sword on his hip, because of danger at night. King Solomon made himself a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made its columns of silver, its top of gold, its seat of purple, its interior inlaid with love, from the maidens of Jerusalem. Go forth, maidens of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, wearing a crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his marriage, on the day of his profound joy.
You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful! Your eyes are dove-like behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats, trailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep all shaped alike, which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired, and not one of them is missing. Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your mouth is comely; your temples, behind your veil, are like a slice of pomegranate. Your neck is like the tower of David built for trophies; a thousand shields hang on it, all armor of heroes. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, pasturing among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, I will betake myself to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense. You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no blemish in you.
Come with me from Lebanon, bride of mine, with me from Lebanon come; depart from the top of Amana, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards. You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; you have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one bead of your necklace. How lovely are your caresses, my sister, my bride! How much better than wine are your caresses, and the fragrance of your ointments than all kinds of perfume! Your lips, my bride, drip honey;honey and milk are under your tongue; the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden inclosed is my sister, my bride, a spring inclosed, a fountain sealed. Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, together with all the finest perfumes. You are a fountain of gardens, a well of fresh water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.
Awake, northwind, and come, southwind! Blow upon my garden, that its perfume may waft out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat its precious fruits.
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh and my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, friends; drink, drink abundantly, beloved friends!
I was asleep, but my heart was awake; hark, my beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my innocent one; for my head is drenched with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.” But I have taken off my robe; how shall I put it on again? I have washed my feet; how shall I soil them? My beloved put his hand through the doorway, and my heart yearned for him. I rose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with the finest myrrh, upon the handles of the bar. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had turned away, had gone; my soul failed when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The watchmen who go about the city found me; they struck me, they wounded me; the guardians of the walls stripped me of my mantle. I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, do not tell him that I am love-sick.
What is your beloved more than another lover, O fairest of women? What is your beloved more than another lover, that you adjure us thus?
Dazzling and ruddy is my beloved, distinguished among ten thousand. His head is fine gold, his locks are curled, and as black as a raven. His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks, bathing in milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are beds of balsam-flower, producing sweet perfumes; his lips are [red] lilies, breathing the finest myrrh. His hands are rods of gold, studded with topaz pink; his body is polished ivory, inlaid with sapphires. His legs are pillars of marble, set on bases of fine gold; his form is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet, and he is altogether lovely. Such is my beloved, and such is my lover, O maidens of Jerusalem.
Where has your beloved gone, O fairest of women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?
My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the flower-beds of balsam, to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine, who pastures among the lilies.
You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my love, as comely as Jerusalem, as overawing as the most distinguished. Turn your eyes away from me, for they dazzle me. Your hair is like a flock of goats, trailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep, which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired, and not one of them is missing. Your temples are like a slice of pomegranate, behind your veil. There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and maidens without number; but one alone is my dove, my innocent one; she is the only one of her mother; she is her mother’s own darling. The maidens look upon her, and bless her; the queens and the concubines praise her. Who is she that appears like the dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as bright as the sun, as overawing as the most distinguished?
I went down to the nut garden, to look at the green plants of the dale, to see if the grapevine was a-budding, whether the pomegranates were in flower. Before I was aware, my fancy set me among the chariots of my noble people.
Return, return, O Shulammite; return, return, that we may gaze at you.
Why should you gaze at the Shulammite as upon the dance of Mahanaim?
How beautiful are your steps in sandals, O princess; the curves of your thighs are like ornaments made by an artist. Your chest is like a round goblet ever filled with wine; your body is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like a tower of ivory; your eyes are like the pools of Heshbon, at the gate of Bathrabim; your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus. Your head is on you like Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purple; the king is held captive in its tresses. How beautiful, how sweet you are, O love’s delight! This stature of yours is like a palm tree, and your breasts like clusters. I say: I will climb the palm tree, I will take hold of its branches; let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the fragrance of your breath like that of apples, and your soft speech like the best wine—flowing smoothly for my beloved, gliding over the lips of those about to sleep.
I am my beloved’s, and his longing is for me. Come, my beloved, let us go into the field, let us stay in the villages; let us go early to the vineyards, to see whether the grapevine has budded, whether the vine blossoms have opened, if the pomegranates are in flower. There I will give my love to you. The love-plants yield their fragrance, and at our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, both new and old, which I have kept for you, my beloved.
O that you were my brother, who had been nursed by my mother! I would meet you in the street and kiss you, and none would despise me. I would lead you and bring you into my mother’s house, that you might instruct me; I would give you some spiced wine to drink, some of my pomegranate juice.
O that his left hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me! I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it please.
Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?
I woke you under the apple tree, where your mother had been in travail with you, where she had brought you forth. Place me like a seal upon your heart, like a seal upon your arm. Indeed, love is strong as death itself, ardent love is severe as the grave; its flashes are flashes of fire, a flame of the Lord. Floods cannot quench love, rivers cannot drown it; if a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be laughed aside.
We have a young sister, and she has no breasts yet; but what shall we do with our sister when she will be asked in marriage? If she is a wall, we will build a silver turret on her; but if she is a door, we will inclose her with cedar boards.
Now I am a wall, and my breasts like towers, then I should win his favor.
Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon; he gave over the vineyard to caretakers; each would bring in a thousand silver pieces for its fruits. I keep my vineyard to myself; you, Solomon, are welcome to the thousand shekels, and the caretakers of the fruit to the two hundred shekels.
O you who sit in the gardens, the companions are listening to your voice; let me hear it too!
Make haste, my beloved, be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountains of spices.