The Song of songs, which is Solomon's.
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy breasts are better than wine.
And the smell of thine ointments is better than all spices: thy name is ointment poured forth; therefore do the young maidens love thee.
They have drawn thee: we will run after thee, for the smell of thine ointments: the king has brought me into closet: let us rejoice and be glad in thee; we will love thy breasts more than wine: righteousness loves thee.
I am black, but beautiful, ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
Look not upon me, because I am dark, because the sun has looked unfavourably upon me: my mother's sons strove with me; they made me keeper in the vineyards; I have not kept my own vineyard.
Tell me, whom my soul loves, where thou tendest thy flock, where thou causest to rest at noon, lest I become as one that is veiled by the flocks of thy companions.
If thou know not thyself, thou fair one among women, go thou forth by the footsteps of the flocks, and feed thy kids by the shepherd's tents.
I have likened thee, my companion, to my horses in the chariots of Pharao.
How are thy cheeks beautiful as of a dove, thy neck as chains!
We will make thee figures of gold with studs of silver.
So long as the king was at table, my spikenard gave forth its smell.
My kinsman is to me a bundle of myrrh; he shall lie between my breasts.
My kinsman is to me a cluster of camphor in the vineyards of Engaddi.
Behold, thou art fair, my companion; behold, thou art fair; thine eyes are doves.
Behold, thou art fair, my kinsman, yea, beautiful, overshadowing our bed.
The beams of our house are cedars, our ceilings are of cypress.