A locked garden is my sister, my bride, A locked spring, a sealed fountain.

You are a garden spring, A well of fresh water, And flowing streams from Lebanon.”

The Bride

“Awake, north wind, And come, wind of the south; Make my garden breathe out fragrance, May its balsam oils flow. May my beloved come into his garden And eat its delicious fruits!”

The Torment of Separation

The Groom

“I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh along with my balsam. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and drink deeply, lovers.”

The Bride

“My beloved has gone down to his garden, To the beds of balsam, To pasture his flock in the gardens And gather lilies.

The Groom

“You who sit in the gardens: My companions are listening for your voice— Let me hear it!”