Song of Solomon 4
1 [HE] Lo! thou art beautiful, my fair one, Lo! thou art beautiful, Thine eyes, are doves, from behind thy veil, —Thy hair, is like a flock of goats, which are reclining on the sides of Mount Gilead:
Look, you are beautiful, my love. Look, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, that descend from Mount Gilead.
2 Thy teeth, are like a flock, evenly grown, which have come up from the washing-place, —whereof, all of them, are twin-bearers, and bereaved, is none among them:
Your teeth are like a newly shorn flock, which have come up from the washing, where every one of them has twins. None is bereaved among them.
3 Like a cord of crimson, are thy lips, and, thy mouth, is lovely, —Like a slice of pomegranate, are thy temples, behind thy veil:
Your lips are like scarlet thread. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.
4 Like the tower of David, is thy neck, built for war, —A thousand shields, hung thereon, all, equipment of heroes:
Your neck is like David's tower built for an armory, whereon a thousand shields hang, all the shields of the mighty men.
5 Thy two breasts, are like two young roes, twins of a gazelle, —which pasture among lilies.
Your two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies.
6 Until the day, breathe, and the shadows, be lengthened, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, and unto the hill of frankincense.
Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of frankincense.
7 Thou art, all over, beautiful, my fair one, and, blemish, is there none in thee.
You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.
8 With me, from Lebanon, O bride, with me, from Lebanon, shalt thou enter, —Thou shalt look round from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir, and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon. Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
9 Thou hast encouraged me, my sister, bride, —thou hast encouraged me, with one [glance] of thine eyes, with one ornament of thy neck.
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride. You have ravished my heart with one of your eyes, with one chain of your neck.
10 How beautiful are thy caresses, my sister, bride, —how much more delightful thy caresses, than wine, and the fragrance of thine oils, than all spices:
How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride. How much better is your love than wine. The fragrance of your perfumes than all manner of spices.
11 With sweetness, thy lips do drip, O bride, —Honey and milk, are under thy tongue, and, the fragrance of thy garments, is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
Your lips, my bride, drip like the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under your tongue. The smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
12 A garden barred, is my sister, bride, —a spring barred, a fountain sealed:
A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; a locked up spring, a sealed fountain.
13 Thy buddings forth, are a paradise of pomegranates, with precious fruits, —henna bushes, with nard blossoms:
Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits: henna with spikenard plants,
14 Nard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all woods of frankincense, —myrrh and aloes, with all the chiefs of spices:
spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree; myrrh and aloes, with all the best spices,
15 A garden fountain, a well of living waters, —and flowings from Lebanon.
a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, flowing streams from Lebanon.
16 [SHE] Awake, O north wind, and come in, thou south, Fan my garden—its balsams, will flow out, —Let my beloved enter his garden, and eat his precious fruits.
Awake, north wind; and come, you south. Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and taste his precious fruits.
