How graceful are your sandaled feet, willing woman! The smooth curves of your thighs—like fine jewelry, the work of an artist's hands!
Your navel, cupped like the full moon— may it never lack spiced wine! Your belly is a mound of winnowed wheat edged with lilies.
Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle doe;
your neck, like a tower of ivory; your eyes, pools in Heshbon, by the gate of that lordly city. Your profile is like the tower of Lebanon, looking out toward Damascus.
Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel, and your hair, braided in royal purple— a king is bound by the tresses!
You are so beautiful, so lovely— my love, delightful one!
Your stately form resembles a date palm, and your breasts are like clustered fruit.
I say, "I will climb the palm tree; I will hold its fruit!" May your breasts be now like grape clusters, and the scent of your breath like apples!
Your palate is like excellent wine . . . [Woman]. . . flowing smoothly for my love, gliding through the lips and teeth.
I belong to my lover, and his longing is only for me.
[Woman]Come, my love: Let's go out to the field and rest all night among the flowering henna.
Let's set out early for the vineyards. We will see if the vines have budded and the blossoms opened, see if the pomegranates have bloomed. There I'll give my loving to you.
The mandrakes give off their scent, and at our doorways is every delicacy— fresh or ripened— my love, I have kept them hidden for you.