7
(To Her Beloved) Tell me, O you whom I love, Where you feed your flock, Where you make it rest at noon. For why should I be as one who veils herself By the flocks of your companions?
8
The Beloved If you do not know, O fairest among women, Follow in the footsteps of the flock, And feed your little goats Beside the shepherds' tents.
9
I have compared you, my love, To my filly among Pharaoh's chariots.
10
Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments, Your neck with chains of gold.
11
The Daughters of Jerusalem We will make you ornaments of gold With studs of silver.
12
The Shulamite While the king is at his table, My spikenard sends forth its fragrance.
13
A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, That lies all night between my breasts.
14
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blooms In the vineyards of En Gedi.
15
The Beloved Behold, you are fair, my love! Behold, you are fair! You have dove's eyes.
16
The Shulamite Behold, you are handsome, my beloved! Yes, pleasant! Also our bed is green.
17
The beams of our houses are cedar, And our rafters of fir.