Song of Songs 7

¹ Return, return, O maid of Shulam, return; return, that we may gaze on you!

² How beautiful are your feet in their sandals, O prince’s daughter! The curve of your thighs is like the curve of a necklace, work of a master hand.

³ Your navel is a bowl well rounded with no lack of wine, your belly a heap of wheat surrounded with lilies.

⁴ Your two breasts are two fawns, twins of a gazelle.

⁵ Your neck is an ivory tower. Your eyes, the pools of Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose, the Tower of Lebanon, sentinel facing Damascus.

⁶ Your head is held high like Carmel, and its plaits are as dark as purple; a king is held captive in your tresses.

⁷ How beautiful you are, how charming, my love, my delight!

⁸ In stature like the palm tree, its fruit-clusters your breasts.

⁹ ‘I will climb the palm tree,’ I resolved, ‘I will seize its clusters of dates.’ May your breasts be clusters of grapes, your breath sweet-scented as apples,

¹⁰ your speaking, superlative wine.

¹¹ I am my Beloved’s, and his desire is for me.

¹² Come, my Beloved, let us go to the fields. We will spend the night in the villages,

¹³ and in the morning we will go to the vineyards. We will see if the vines are budding, if their blossoms are opening, if the pomegranate trees are in flower. Then I shall give you the gift of my love.

¹⁴ The mandrakes yield their fragrance,[*a] the rarest fruits are at our doors; the new as well as the old, I have stored them for you, my Beloved.