Song of Songs 4

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Solomon Praises the Beauty of His Bride

“Behold, you are beautiful, my darling,

Behold, you are beautiful!

Your eyes are like doves behind your veil;

Your hair is like a flock of goats

That have leapt down from Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn ewes

Which have come up from their washing,

All of which bear twins,

And not one among them has lost her young.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread,

And your mouth is lovely.

Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranate

Behind your veil.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

Built with rows of stones

On which are hung one thousand shields,

All the small shields of the mighty men.

Your two breasts are like two fawns,

Twins of a gazelle

Which feed among the lilies.

Until the day breathes

And the shadows flee,

I will go my way to the mountain of myrrh

And to the hill of frankincense.

“You are altogether beautiful, my darling,

And there is no blemish in you.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride,

May you come with me from Lebanon.

Journey down from the top of Amana,

From the top of Senir and Hermon,

From the dens of lions,

From the mountains of leopards.

You have made my heart beat faster, my sister, my bride;

You have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes,

With a single strand of your necklace.

How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride!

How much better is your love than wine,

And the fragrance of your oils

Than all kinds of spices!

Your lips, my bride, drip honey from the comb;

Honey and milk are under your tongue,

And the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

A garden locked is my sister, my bride,

A rock garden locked, a spring sealed up.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates

With choice fruits, henna with nard plants,

Nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,

With all the trees of frankincense,

Myrrh and aloes, along with all the finest spices.

You are a garden spring,

A well of fresh water,

And streams flowing from Lebanon.”

“Awake, O north wind,

And come, wind of the south;

Make my garden breathe out fragrance,

Let its spices flow forth.

May my beloved come into his garden

And eat its choice fruits!”

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