The Lover to His Beloved: Like a lily among the thorns, so is my darling among the maidens.

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

The Beloved to Her Lover: Awake, O north wind; come, O south wind! Blow on my garden so that its fragrant spices may send out their sweet smell. May my beloved come into his garden and eat its delightful fruit!

You are altogether beautiful, my darling! There is no blemish in you!

The Maidens to The Beloved: Why is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful of women? Why is your beloved better than others, that you would command us in this manner?

“I will arise and look all around throughout the town, and throughout the streets and squares; I will search for my beloved.” I searched for him but I did not find him.

The Lover to His Beloved: (7:1) Turn, turn, O Perfect One! Turn, turn, that I may stare at you! The Beloved to Her Lover: Why do you gaze upon the Perfect One like the dance of the Mahanaim?

The fragrance of your colognes is delightful; your name is like the finest perfume. No wonder the young women adore you!

The Beloved to the Maidens: I am dark but lovely, O maidens of Jerusalem, dark like the tents of Qedar, lovely like the tent curtains of Salmah.

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

The Beloved about Her Lover: He brought me into the banquet hall, and he looked at me lovingly.

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

The Beloved to the Maidens: I admonish you, O maidens of Jerusalem: “Do not arouse or awaken love until it pleases!”

The Beloved to the Maidens: I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and by the young does of the open fields: Do not awaken or arouse love until it pleases!

The Beloved to the Maidens:I admonish you, O maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and by the young does of the open fields: “Do not awake or arouse love until it pleases!”

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.

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!