SS 4:1Oh, you are beautiful, my love! / Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes are like doves behind your veil; / Your hair is like a flock of goats / That repose on Mount Gilead.

SS 4:2Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes / That have come up from the washing, / All of which have borne twins, / And none of them is bereaved of her young.

SS 4:3Your lips are like a scarlet thread, / And your mouth is lovely; / Your cheeks are like a piece of pomegranate / Behind your veil.

SS 4:4Your neck is like the tower of David, / Built for an armory: / A thousand bucklers hang on it, / All the shields of the mighty men.

SS 4:5Your two breasts are like two fawns, / Twins of a gazelle, / That feed among the lilies.

SS 4:6Until the day dawns and the shadows flee away, / I, for my part, will go to the mountain of myrrh / And to the hill of frankincense.

SS 4:7You are altogether beautiful, my love, / And there is no blemish in you.

SS 4:8Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; / With me from Lebanon come. / Look from the top of Amana, / From the top of Senir and Hermon, / From the lions’ dens, / From the leopards’ mountains.

SS 4:9You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; / You have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, / With one strand of your necklace.

SS 4:10How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! / How much better is your love than wine, / And the fragrance of your ointments / Than all spices!

SS 4:11Your lips drip fresh honey, my bride; / Honey and milk are under your tongue; / And the fragrance of your garments / Is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

SS 4:12A garden enclosed is my sister, my bride, / A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

SS 4:13Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates / With choicest fruit; / Henna with spikenard,

SS 4:14Spikenard and saffron; / Calamus and cinnamon, / With all the trees of frankincense; / Myrrh and aloes, / With all the chief spices.

SS 4:15A fountain in gardens, / A well of living water, / And streams from Lebanon.

SS 4:16Awake, O north wind; / And come, O south wind! / Blow upon my garden: / Let its spices flow forth; / Let my beloved come into his garden / And eat his choicest fruit.

SongofSongs 3 SongofSongs 5

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