THE SONG OF SONGS
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Oh for a kiss from your lips,
for your love is better than wine.

You are fair, my beloved, you are fair.
Your eyes are doves.

And you are fair, my darling, sweet indeed.
Our couch is shaded with branches.
The beams of our house are cedar, our rafters are firs.

Like a lily among thorns
is my beloved among women.

Like an apple tree in the forest
is my darling among men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
his fruit is sweet to my palate.

Sustain me with raisins, revive me with apples,
for I am faint with love.

Hark, my beloved! Here he comes,
leaping over mountains, bounding over hills.
And thus does my beloved speak to me.

Arise, my darling, my beauty, and come away.

For the winter is over, the rains have gone,
blossoms have appeared, the time for pruning has come.

The turtledove's cooing is heard in the land.

The green figs on the figtree are riping,
the vines are in blossom; they give off fragrance.

Arise my darling, my fair one, and come away.

O my dove, in the cranny of the rock, hidden by the cliff,
let me see your face, let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet, your face is lovely.

My beloved is mine and I am his;
he feeds among the lilies.

When the day declines, when shadows lengthen, set out,
my beloved, as a swift gazelle, for the hills of spices.

Maidens of Zion, go forth and gaze upon King Solomon
wearing the crown his mother gave him
on the day of his wedding, the day of his bliss.

My bride, my own, you have captured my heart
with a glance of your eyes, with a turn of your neck.

How sweet your love, my bride, my own,
far sweeter than wine.

Your lips drop sweetness, my bride.
Honey and milk are under your tongue.
No spice is so sweet as your fragrance.

Where has your beloved gone, fairest of women?
Where has your darling wandered?
Let us seek him together.

My beloved has gone down to his garden of spices,
to browse in the garden and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.
He feeds among the lilies.

How beautiful your sandled feet, daughter of nobles.
Your rounded thighs are jewels, the work of a master-hand.

Your navel is a rounded goblet.
Let mixed wine not be lacking.

Your belly is a heap of wheat encircled by lilies.

Your breasts are two fawns, twins of a gazelle.

I am my beloved's, and his longing is all for me.
Come away to the fields, my beloved.

Let us sleep among the blossoms of henna.
Let us go to the vineyards early.

Let us see if the vine has budded, if blossoms are open.
There I will give my love to you.

Let me be a seal upon your heart, upon your arm.

For love is strong as death,
passion mighty as the grave.

Its flashes burn like flames, a blazing fire.

Vast floods cannot quench love,
no river can sweep it away.

If one offered all he has for love,
he would be utterly scorned.

You linger in the garden, companions listen for you.
Let me hear your voice.

Hurry, my beloved, as a swift gazelle
to the hills of spices.