שיר השירים ז׳Song of Songs 7

Turn back, turn back,
O maid of Shulem!
Turn back, turn back,
That we may gaze upon you.
“Why will you gaze at the Shulammite
In the Mahanaim dance?”

How lovely are your feet in sandals,
O daughter of nobles!
Your rounded thighs are like jewels,
The work of a master’s hand.

Your navel is like a round goblet—
Let mixed wine not be lacking!—
Your belly like a heap of wheat
Hedged about with lilies.

Your breasts are like two fawns,
Twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is like a tower of ivory,
Your eyes like pools in Heshbon
By the gate of Bath-rabbim,
Your nose like the Lebanon tower
That faces toward Damascus.

The head upon you is like crimson wool, as a by-form of karmil: cf. 2 Chron. 2.6, 13; 3.14.
The locks of your head are like purple—
A king is held captive in the tresses.

How fair you are, how beautiful!
O Love, with all its rapture!

Your stately form is like the palm,
Your breasts are like clusters.

I say: Let me climb the palm,
Let me take hold of its branches;
Let your breasts be like clusters of grapes,
Your breath like the fragrance of apples,

And your mouth like choicest wine.
“Let it flow to my beloved as new wine
Gliding over the lips of sleepers.”

I am my beloved’s,
And his desire is for me.

Come, my beloved,
Let us go into the open;
Let us lodge among the henna shrubs.

Let us go early to the vineyards;
Let us see if the vine has flowered,
If its blossoms have opened,
If the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give my love to you.

The mandrakes yield their fragrance,
At our doors are all choice fruits;
Both freshly picked and long-stored
Have I kept, my beloved, for you.