Song of Solomon 4
1 How beautiful you look, my darling, how beautiful! Your eyes are like doves behind your veil. Your hair flows down like a flock of goats descending Mount Gilead.
Mi frendesse, thou art ful fair; thin iyen ben of culueris, with outen that that is hid with ynne; thin heeris ben as the flockis of geete, that stieden fro the hil of Galaad.
2 Your teeth are as white as a flock of sheep that are just shorn and washed. None of them are missing—they are all perfectly matched.
Thi teeth ben as the flockis of clippid sheep, that stieden fro waischyng; alle ben with double lambren, and no bareyn is among tho.
3 Your lips are as red as scarlet thread. Your mouth is gorgeous. Your cheeks are the blushing color of pomegranates behind your veil.
Thi lippis ben as a reed lace, and thi speche is swete; as the relif of an appil of Punyk, so ben thi chekis, with outen that, that is hid with ynne.
4 Your neck is as tall and shapely as David's tower, with your necklaces like the hanging shields of a thousand warriors.
Thi necke is as the tour of Dauid, which is bildid with strengthis maad bifore for defense; a thousynde scheldis hangen on it, al armure of stronge men.
5 Your breasts are like two fawns, two gazelles feeding among the lilies.
Thi twei tetis ben as twey kidis, twynnes of a capret, that ben fed in lilies,
6 Before the morning breezes blow and the shadows disappear, I must hurry to those mountains of myrrh and frankincense.
til the dai sprynge, and shadewis ben bowid doun. Y schal go to the mounteyn of myrre, and to the litil hil of encense.
7 You are incredibly beautiful, my darling—you are absolutely flawless!
My frendesse, thou art al faire, and no wem is in thee.
8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come from Lebanon. Come down from the peak of Amana, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains where leopards live.
My spousesse, come thou fro the Liban; come thou fro the Liban, come thou; thou schalt be corowned fro the heed of Amana, fro the cop of Sanyr and Hermon, fro the dennys of liouns, fro the hillis of pardis.
9 You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride. With just one look you stole my heart, with just one sparkle from a single one of your necklaces.
My sister spousesse, thou hast woundid myn herte; thou hast woundid myn herte, in oon of thin iyen, and in oon heer of thi necke.
10 How wonderful is your love, my sister, my bride! Your love is sweeter than wine. The way you smell from your perfumed oils is better than any spice.
My sistir spousesse, thi tetis ben ful faire; thi tetis ben feirere than wyn, and the odour of thi clothis is aboue alle swete smellynge oynementis.
11 Nectar drips from your lips; milk and honey are under your tongue. The smell of your clothes is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
Spousesse, thi lippis ben an hony coomb droppynge; hony and mylk ben vndur thi tunge, and the odour of thi clothis is as the odour of encence.
12 My sister, my bride, is a locked garden, a spring of water that is closed, a fountain that is sealed.
Mi sister spousesse, a gardyn closid togidere; a gardyn closid togidere, a welle aseelid.
13 Your channel is a paradise of pomegranates, full of the best fruits, with henna and nard,
Thi sendingis out ben paradis of applis of Punyk, with the fruytis of applis, cipre trees, with narde;
14 nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all kinds of trees producing frankincense, myrrh, aloes, and the finest spices.
narde, and saffrun, an erbe clepid fistula, and canel, with alle trees of the Liban, myrre, and aloes, with alle the beste oynementis.
15 You are a garden fountain, a well of living water, a flowing stream from Lebanon.
A welle of gardyns, a pit of wallynge watris, that flowen with fersnesse fro the Liban.
16 Wake up, north wind! Come, south wind! Blow on my garden so its scent may be carried on the breeze. Let my love come to his garden and eat its best fruits.
Rise thou north wynd, and come thou, south wynd; blowe thou thorouy my gardyn, and the swete smellynge oynementis therof schulen flete.
