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The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. “Have you seen the one my heart loves?”
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Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves. I held him and would not let him go till I had brought him to my mother’s house, to the room of the one who conceived me.
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Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.
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Who is this coming up from the wilderness like a column of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and incense made from all the spices of the merchant?
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Look! It is Solomon’s carriage, escorted by sixty warriors, the noblest of Israel,
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all of them wearing the sword, all experienced in battle, each with his sword at his side, prepared for the terrors of the night.
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King Solomon made for himself the carriage; he made it of wood from Lebanon.
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Its posts he made of silver, its base of gold. Its seat was upholstered with purple, its interior inlaid with love. Daughters of Jerusalem,
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come out, and look, you daughters of Zion. Look on King Solomon wearing a crown, the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, the day his heart rejoiced.
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Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone.
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Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.
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Your neck is like the tower of David, built with courses of stone; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.
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Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense.
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Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana, from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon, from the lions’ dens and the mountain haunts of leopards.
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You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.
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How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume more than any spice!
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Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
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You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.
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nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree, with myrrh and aloes and all the finest spices.
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You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water streaming down from Lebanon.
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She
Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread everywhere. Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.
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He
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. Friends
Eat, friends, and drink; drink your fill of love.
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She
I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
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I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
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I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer.
