The Lover to His Beloved: I went down to the orchard of walnut trees, to look for the blossoms of the valley, to see if the vines had budded or if the pomegranates were in bloom.

The night watchmen found me – the ones who guard the city walls. “Have you seen my beloved?”

The pomegranates have appeared in the land, the time for pruning and singing has come; the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has burned my skin. My brothers were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards. Alas, my own vineyard I could not keep!

The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, 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.

Come out, O maidens of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon! He is wearing the crown with which his mother crowned him on his wedding day, on the most joyous day of his life!

But she is unique! My dove, my perfect one! She is the special daughter of her mother, she is the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and complimented her; the queens and concubines praised her:

Let us rise early to go to the vineyards, to see if the vines have budded, to see if their blossoms have opened, if the pomegranates are in bloom – there I will give you my love.