Who is she who comes up from the wilderness Like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all the fragrant powders of the merchant?
There is Solomon's bed; Sixty mighty men surround it, Of the mighty men of Israel.
All of them wield the sword and are expert in war; Each man has his sword at his thigh Because of the night alarms.
King Solomon made himself a palanquin Of the wood of Lebanon.
Its posts he made of silver, Its bottom, of gold; Its seat, of purple; Its midst was inlaid with love From the daughters of Jerusalem.
Go forth, O daughters of Zion, And look at King Solomon with the crown With which his mother crowned him On the day of his espousals, Yes, on the day of the gladness of his heart.
Oh, you are beautiful, my love! Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes are like doves behind your veil; Your hair is like a flock of goats That repose on Mount Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes That have come up from the washing, All of which have borne twins, And none of them is bereaved of her young.
Your lips are like a scarlet thread, And your mouth is lovely; Your cheeks are like a piece of pomegranate Behind your veil.
Your neck is like the tower of David, Built for an armory: A thousand bucklers hang on it, All the shields of the mighty men.
Your two breasts are like two fawns, Twins of a gazelle, That feed among the lilies.
Until the day dawns and the shadows flee away, I, for my part, will go to the mountain of myrrh And to the hill of frankincense.
You are altogether beautiful, my love, And there is no blemish in you.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; With me from Lebanon come. Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the leopards' mountains.
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; You have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, With one strand of your necklace.
How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine, And the fragrance of your ointments Than all spices!
Your lips drip fresh honey, my bride; Honey and milk are under your tongue; And the fragrance of your garments Is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
A garden enclosed is my sister, my bride, A spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates With choicest fruit; Henna with spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron; Calamus and cinnamon, With all the trees of frankincense; Myrrh and aloes, With all the chief spices.
A fountain in gardens, A well of living water, And streams from Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind; And come, O south wind! Blow upon my garden: Let its spices flow forth; Let my beloved come into his garden And eat his choicest fruit.
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends; Drink, and drink deeply, O beloved ones!