The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, ¹  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.

Your cheeks are beautiful with ornaments; your neck is lovely ¹  with strings of jewels.

Scarcely ¹  had I passed them by when I found my beloved! I held onto him ²  tightly and would not let him go ³  until I brought him to my mother’s house, ⁴  to the bedroom chamber ⁵  of the one who conceived me.

His cheeks are like garden beds full of balsam trees ¹  yielding ²  perfume. His lips are like lilies dripping with drops of myrrh.