I am come into my garden, my sister, [my] spouse; 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, yea, drink abundantly, beloved ones!
I slept, but my heart was awake. The voice of my beloved! he knocketh: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, mine undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.
-- I have put off my tunic, how should I put it on? I have washed my feet, how should I pollute them? --
My beloved put in his hand by the hole [of the door]; And my bowels yearned for him.
I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself; he was gone: My soul went forth when he spoke. I sought him, but I found him not; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
The watchmen that went about the city found me; They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, ... What will ye tell him? -- That I am sick of love.
What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, Thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, That thou dost so charge us?
My beloved is white and ruddy, The chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is [as] the finest gold; His locks are flowing, black as the raven;
His eyes are like doves by the water-brooks, Washed with milk, fitly set;
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, raised beds of sweet plants; His lips lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.
His hands gold rings, set with the chrysolite; His belly is bright ivory, overlaid [with] sapphires;
His legs, pillars of marble, set upon bases of fine gold: His bearing as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars;
His mouth is most sweet: Yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, yea, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
Song of Solomon 6
Whither is thy beloved gone, Thou fairest among women? Whither is thy beloved turned aside? And we will seek him with thee.
My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth [his flock] among the lilies.
Thou art fair, my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as troops with banners:
Turn away thine eyes from me, For they overcome me. Thy hair is as a flock of goats On the slopes of Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep Which go up from the washing; Which have all borne twins, And none is barren among them.
As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples Behind thy veil.
There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, And virgins without number:
My dove, mine undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother, She is the choice one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
Who is she that looketh forth as the dawn, Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, Terrible as troops with banners?
I went down into the garden of nuts, To see the verdure of the valley, To see whether the vine budded, Whether the pomegranates blossomed.
Before I was aware, My soul set me upon the chariots of my willing people.
Return, return, O Shulamite; Return, return, that we may look upon thee. -- What would ye look upon in the Shulamite? -- As it were the dance of two camps.
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