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

The Lover to His Beloved: O my beloved, you are like a mare among Pharaoh’s stallions.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Oh, how I wish you would kiss me passionately! For your lovemaking is more delightful than wine.

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

The mandrakes send out their fragrance; over our door is every delicacy, both new and old, which I have stored up for you, my lover.

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.

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 Lover to His Beloved: Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like clusters of grapes.

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.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine; the fragrance of your perfume is better than any spice!

Scarcely had I passed them by when I found my beloved! I held onto him tightly and would not let him go until I brought him to my mother’s house, to the bedroom chamber of the one who conceived me.

The Beloved: I was a wall, and my breasts were like fortress towers. Then I found favor in his eyes.

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

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.

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?

My vineyard, which belongs to me, is at my disposal alone. The thousand shekels belong to you, O Solomon, and two hundred shekels belong to those who maintain it for its fruit.

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

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