The Lover to His Beloved: If you do not know, O most beautiful of women, simply follow the tracks of my flock, and pasture your little lambs beside the tents of the shepherds.

My beloved is like a fragrant pouch of myrrh ¹  spending the night ²  between my breasts.

My beloved is like a cluster of henna blossoms ¹  in the vineyards of En-Gedi. ² 

The Beloved to Her Lover: Oh, how handsome you are, my lover! ¹  Oh, ²  how delightful ³  you are! The lush foliage ⁴  is our canopied bed; ⁵ 

The Beloved about Her Lover: Listen! ¹  My lover is approaching! ²  Look! ³  Here he comes, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills!

The Beloved to Her Lover: Until the dawn arrives ¹  and the shadows flee, turn, ²  my beloved – be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountain gorges. ³ 

May your mouth ¹  be like the best wine, flowing smoothly for my beloved, gliding gently over our lips as we sleep together. ² 

The Beloved to Her Lover: Tell me, O you whom my heart ¹  loves, where do you pasture your sheep? Where do you rest your sheep during the midday heat? Tell me lest ²  I wander around ³  beside the flocks of your companions!

The Beloved about Her Lover: Like ¹  an apple tree ²  among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. I delight ³  to sit ⁴  in his shade, ⁵  and his fruit ⁶  is sweet ⁷  to my taste. ⁸ 

The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, ¹  in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places of the mountain crags, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Oh, how I wish you were ¹  my little brother, ²  nursing at my mother’s breasts; if I saw ³  you outside, I could kiss you – surely ⁴  no one would despise me! ⁵ 

The Lover to His Beloved: I have entered my garden, O my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my balsam spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk! The Poet to the Couple: ¹  Eat, friends, and drink! ²  Drink freely, O lovers!