The Beloved about Her Lover: I am my beloved’s, and he desires me!

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?

The Beloved about Her Lover: I am my lover’s and my lover is mine; he grazes among the lilies.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Make haste, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices.

The Beloved to the Maidens: My beloved is dazzling and ruddy; he stands out in comparison to all other men.

The Beloved to the Maidens: O maidens of Jerusalem, I command you – If you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!

The Maidens to the Beloved: Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Where has your beloved turned? Tell us, that we may seek him with you.

Surging waters cannot quench love; floodwaters cannot overflow it. If someone were to offer all his possessions to buy love, the offer would be utterly despised.

“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.

I opened for my beloved, but my lover had already turned and gone away. I fell into despair when he departed. I looked for him but did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me.

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

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: Listen! My lover is approaching! Look! Here he comes, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills!

The Beloved about Her Lover: My lover is mine and I am his; he grazes among the lilies.

The Lover to His Beloved: You are a locked garden, my sister, my bride; you are an enclosed spring, a sealed-up fountain.

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

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

The Beloved to Her Lover: Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside; let us spend the night in the villages.

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: Eat, friends, and drink! Drink freely, O lovers!

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.