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

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

You are a garden spring, a well of fresh water flowing down from Lebanon.

His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars.

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 Beloved about Her Lover: I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming. Listen! My lover is knocking at the door! The Lover to His Beloved: “Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one! My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”

The Speaker: Who is this coming up from the desert like a column of smoke, like a fragrant billow of myrrh and frankincense, every kind of fragrant powder of the traveling merchants?

Your teeth are like a flock of newly-shorn sheep coming up from the washing place; each of them has a twin, and not one of them is missing.

Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, I will go up to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.

The Beloved to Her Lover: “I have already taken off my robe – must I put it on again? I have already washed my feet – must I soil them again?”

I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh – my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.

His mouth is very sweet; he is totally desirable. This is my beloved! This is my companion, O maidens of Jerusalem!

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.

Turn your eyes away from me – they overwhelm me! Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin; not one of them is missing.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-Hamon; he leased out the vineyard to those who maintained it. Each was to bring a thousand shekels of silver for its fruit.

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

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, you are beautiful, my darling! Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. Your hair is like a flock of female goats descending from Mount Gilead.

I want to climb the palm tree, and take hold of its fruit stalks. May your breasts be like the clusters of grapes, and may the fragrance of your breath be like apricots!

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