The Lover to His Beloved: You are a locked garden, ¹  my sister, my bride; you are an enclosed spring, a sealed-up fountain.

You have stolen my heart, ¹  my sister, ²  my bride! You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, ³  with one jewel of your necklace.

Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride, honey and milk are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana, from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon, from the lions’ dens and the mountain haunts of the leopards.

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!

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: ¹  Eat, friends, and drink! ²  Drink freely, O lovers!