His hands are rods of gold Set with topaz; His abdomen is panels of ivory Covered with sapphires.

His thighs are pillars of alabaster Set on pedestals of pure gold; His appearance is like Lebanon, Choice as the cedars.

His mouth is full of sweetness. And he is wholly desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, You daughters of Jerusalem.”

Mutual Delight in Each Other

The Chorus

“Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Where has your beloved turned, That we may seek him with you?”

Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranate Behind your veil.

There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, And young women without number;

But my dove, my perfect one, is unique: She is her mother’s only daughter; She is the pure child of the one who gave birth to her. The young women saw her and called her blessed, The queens and the concubines also, and they praised her, saying,

‘Who is this who looks down like the dawn, As beautiful as the full moon, As pure as the sun, As awesome as an army with banners?’

I went down to the orchard of nut trees To see the plants of the valley, To see whether the vine had grown Or the pomegranates had bloomed.

Before I was aware, my soul set me Over the chariots of my noble people.”

The Chorus

“Come back, come back, O Shulammite; Come back, come back, so that we may look at you!”

The Groom

“Why should you look at the Shulammite, As at the dance of the two armies?

Admiration by the Groom

“How beautiful are your feet in sandals, Prince’s daughter! The curves of your hips are like jewels, The work of the hands of an artist.

Your navel is like a round goblet That never lacks mixed wine; Your belly is like a heap of wheat, Surrounded with lilies.

Your stature is like a palm tree, And your breasts are like its clusters.

I said, ‘I will climb the palm tree, I will grasp its fruit stalks.’ Oh, may your breasts be like clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of your breath like apples,

And your mouth like the best wine!”

The Bride

“It goes down smoothly for my beloved, Flowing gently through the lips of those who are asleep.

Come, my beloved, let’s go out to the country, Let’s spend the night in the villages.

Let’s rise early and go to the vineyards; Let’s see whether the vine has grown And its buds have opened, And whether the pomegranates have bloomed. There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes have given forth fragrance; And over our doors are all delicious fruits, New as well as old, Which I have saved for you, my beloved.

The Lovers Speak

“Oh that you were like a brother to me Who nursed at my mother’s breasts. If I found you outdoors, I would kiss you; No one would despise me, either.

I would lead you and bring you Into the house of my mother, who used to instruct me; I would give you spiced wine to drink from the juice of my pomegranates.

The Groom

“Swear to me, you daughters of Jerusalem: Do not disturb or awaken my love Until she pleases.”

The Chorus

“Who is this coming up from the wilderness, Leaning on her beloved?”

The Bride

“Beneath the apple tree I awakened you; There your mother went into labor with you, There she was in labor and gave birth to you.

Put me like a seal over your heart, Like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, Jealousy is as severe as Sheol; Its flames are flames of fire, The flame of the Lord.

The Chorus

“We have a little sister, And she has no breasts; What shall we do for our sister On the day when she is spoken for?