Song of Solomon 7
1 As the chorus of “Mahanaim.” How beautiful were your feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of your sides [are] as ornaments, Work of the hands of a craftsman.
Quam pulchri sunt gressus tui in calceamentis, filia principis! Iuncturæ femorum tuorum, sicut monilia, quæ fabricata sunt manu artificis.
2 Your waist [is] a basin of roundness, It does not lack the mixture, Your body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
Umbilicus tuus crater tornatilis, numquam indigens poculis. Venter tuus sicut acervus tritici, vallatus liliis.
3 Your two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
Duo ubera tua, sicut duo hinnuli gemelli capreæ.
4 Your neck as a tower of the ivory, Your eyes pools in Heshbon, near the Gate of Bath-Rabbim, Your face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,
Collum tuum sicut turris eburnea. Oculi tui sicut piscinæ in Hesebon, quæ sunt in porta filiæ multitudinis. Nasus tuus sicut turris Libani, quæ respicit contra Damascum.
5 Your head on you as Carmel, And the locks of your head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
Caput tuum ut Carmelus: et comæ capitis tui, sicut purpura regis vincta canalibus.
6 How beautiful and how pleasant you have been, O love, in delights.
Quam pulchra es, et quam decora charissima, in deliciis!
7 This your stature has been like to a palm, And your breasts to clusters.
Statura tua assimilata est palmæ, et ubera tua botris.
8 I said, “Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs,” Indeed, let your breasts now be as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of your face as citrons,
Dixi: Ascendam in palmam, et apprehendam fructus eius: et erunt ubera tua sicut botri vineæ: et odor oris tui sicut malorum.
9 And your palate as the good wine—Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
Guttur tuum sicut vinum optimum, dignum dilecto meo ad potandum, labiisque et dentibus illius ad ruminandum.
10 I [am] my beloved’s, and on me [is] his desire.
Ego dilecto meo, et ad me conversio eius.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
Veni dilecte mi, egrediamur in agrum, commoremur in villis.
12 We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, We see if the vine has flourished, The sweet smelling-flower has opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, There I give to you my loves;
Mane surgamus ad vineas, videamus si floruit vinea, si flores fructus parturiunt, si floruerunt mala Punica: ibi dabo tibi ubera mea.
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, indeed, old, my beloved, I laid up for you!
Mandragoræ dederunt odorem. In portis nostris omnia poma: nova et vetera, dilecte mi, servavi tibi.
