My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh, that lies between my breasts.

Your two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, which feed among the lilies.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, that are twins of a roe.

This, your stature, is like a palm tree, your breasts like its fruit.

I said, “I will climb up into the palm tree. I will take hold of its fruit.” Let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, the smell of your breath like apples.

Oh that you were like my brother, who nursed from the breasts of my mother! If I found you outside, I would kiss you; yes, and no one would despise me.

Brothers

We have a little sister. She has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister in the day when she is to be spoken for?

Beloved

I am a wall, and my breasts like towers, then I was in his eyes like one who found peace.