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?

Draw me after you; let us hurry! May the king bring me into his bedroom chambers! The Maidens to the Lover: We will rejoice and delight in you; we will praise your love more than wine. The Beloved to Her Lover: How rightly the young women adore you!

“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: O my beloved, you are like a mare among Pharaoh’s stallions.

The Lover to His Beloved: (7:2) How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O nobleman’s daughter! The curves of your thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a master craftsman.

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

The fig tree has budded, the vines have blossomed and give off their fragrance. Arise, come away my darling; my beautiful one, come away with me!”

The Beloved’s Brothers: We have a little sister, and as yet she has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister on the day when she is spoken for?

My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the window, peering through the lattice.

Your neck is like the tower of David built with courses of stones; one thousand shields are hung on it – all shields of valiant warriors.

My lover thrust his hand through the hole, and my feelings were stirred for him.

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.

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 Beloved about Her Lover: All night long on my bed I longed for my lover. I longed for him but he never appeared.

I was beside myself with joy! There please give me your myrrh, O daughter of my princely people.

Your navel is a round mixing bowl – may it never lack mixed wine! Your belly is a mound of wheat, encircled by lilies.

The Beloved to Her Lover: I am a meadow flower from Sharon, a lily from the valleys.

Its posts were made of silver; its back was made of gold. Its seat was upholstered with purple wool; its interior was inlaid with leather by the maidens of Jerusalem.

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!

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!