Surging waters cannot quench love; floodwaters ¹  cannot overflow it. If someone were to offer all his possessions ²  to buy love, ³  the offer ⁴  would be utterly despised. ⁵ 

All of them are skilled with a sword, ¹  well-trained in the art of warfare. ²  Each has his sword at his side, to guard against the terrors of the night.

The Lover to His Beloved: Like ¹  a lily among the thorns, ²  so is my darling among the maidens.

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, ¹  how beautiful you are, my beloved! ²  Oh, how beautiful you are! Your eyes ³  are like doves! ⁴ 

The Lover to His Beloved: My darling, you are as beautiful as Tirzah, ¹  as lovely as Jerusalem, ²  as awe-inspiring ³  as bannered armies!

The Lover to His Beloved: O you who stay in the gardens, my companions are listening attentively ¹  for your voice; let me be the one to ²  hear it! ³ 

The Lover to His Beloved: If you do not know, O most beautiful of women, simply follow the tracks of my flock, and pasture your little lambs beside the tents of the shepherds.

The Lover to His Beloved: (7:2) How beautiful are your sandaled ¹  feet, O nobleman’s daughter! ²  The curves ³  of your thighs ⁴  are like jewels, the work of the hands of a master craftsman.

The Beloved’s Brothers: We have a little sister, and as yet she has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister on the day when she is spoken for? ¹ 

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.

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, ²  you are beautiful, my darling! ³  Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. ⁴  Your hair is like a flock of female goats descending ⁵  from Mount Gilead.

The Lover to His Beloved: (7:1) ¹  Turn ² , turn, O ³  Perfect One! ⁴  Turn, turn, that I ⁵  may stare at you! The Beloved to Her Lover: Why ⁶  do you gaze upon the Perfect One like the dance of the Mahanaim? ⁷ 

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!