Song of Solomon 7
1 Douytir of the prince, thi goyngis ben ful faire in schoon; the ioyncturis of thi heppis ben as brochis, that ben maad bi the hond of a crafti man.
How beautiful are your sandaled feet, princess! Your curved thighs are like ornaments made by a master craftsman.
2 Thi nawle is as a round cuppe, and wel formed, that hath neuere nede to drynkis; thi wombe is as an heep of whete, biset aboute with lilies.
Your navel is like a round bowl—may it never lack spiced wine! Your abdomen is like a mound of wheat surrounded by lilies.
3 Thi twei teetis ben as twei kidis, twynnes of a capret.
Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.
4 Thi necke is as a tour of yuer; thin iyen ben as cisternes in Esebon, that ben in the yate of the douyter of multitude; thi nose is as the tour of Liban, that biholdith ayens Damask.
Your neck is as elegant as a tower made of ivory. Your eyes shine like the pools of Heshbon by the Bathrabbin gate. Your nose is beautiful, prominent like the tower in Lebanon that faces Damascus.
5 Thin heed is as Carmele; and the heeres of thin heed ben as the kyngis purpur, ioyned to trowyis.
Your head is as magnificent as Mount Carmel; your black hair has a purple sheen, as if a king was held captive in your locks!
6 Dereworthe spousesse, thou art ful fair, and ful schappli in delices.
How beautiful you are, my love—how attractive are your charms!
7 Thi stature is licned to a palm tree, and thi tetis to clustris of grapis.
You are as tall and slender as a palm tree; your breasts are like its clusters of fruit.
8 I seide, Y schal stie in to a palm tree, and Y schal take the fruytis therof. And thi tetis schulen be as the clustris of grapis of a vyner; and the odour of thi mouth as the odour of pumgranatis;
I tell myself, “I will climb the palm tree and take hold of the fruit.” May your breasts be like bunches of grapes on the vine, and your breath have the scent of apples!
9 thi throte schal be as beste wyn. Worthi to my derlyng for to drynke, and to hise lippis and teeth to chewe.
May your kisses be like the best wine, going down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth.
10 Y schal cleue by loue to my derlyng, and his turnyng schal be to me.
My love is mine, and I am the one he desires!
11 Come thou, my derlyng, go we out in to the feeld; dwelle we togidere in townes.
Come, my love, let's go out into the countryside, and spend the night among the henna flowers.
12 Ryse we eerli to the vyner; se we, if the vyner hath flourid, if the flouris bryngen forth fruytis, if pumgranatis han flourid; there I schal yyue to thee my tetis.
Let's go early to the vineyards and see if the vines have budded and are in flower, and if the pomegranates are blossoming. There I will give my love to you.
13 Mandrogoris han youe her odour in oure yatis; my derlyng, Y haue kept to thee alle applis, new and elde.
The mandrakes give off their fragrant scent; we are surrounded by all kinds of delights, new as well as old, which I have saved up for you, my love.
