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She
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine.
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Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out. No wonder the young women love you!
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My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.
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My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms from the vineyards of En Gedi.
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She
How handsome you are, my beloved! Oh, how charming! And our bed is verdant.
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He
Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women.
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She
Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
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His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.
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My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.
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See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.
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Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
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He
My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
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She
My beloved is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies.
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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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He
How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from the hills of Gilead.
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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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You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.
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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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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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Friends
How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? How is your beloved better than others, that you so charge us?
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She
My beloved is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
