I am the spring crocus blooming on the Sharon Plain, the lily of the valley.
Like a lily among thistles is my darling among young women.
Like the finest apple tree in the orchard is my lover among other young men. I sit in his delightful shade and taste his delicious fruit.
He escorts me to the banquet hall; it’s obvious how much he loves me.
Strengthen me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, for I am weak with love.
His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me.
Promise me, O women of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and wild deer, not to awaken love until the time is right.