Your rounded thighs are like jewels,

the work of the hands of a skillful workman.

no mixed wine is wanting.

Your waist is like a heap of wheat,

set about with lilies.

that are twins of a roe.

Your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bathrabbim.

Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looks toward Damascus.

The hair of your head like purple.

The king is held captive in its tresses.

love, for delights!

your breasts like its fruit.

I will take hold of its fruit.”

Let your breasts be like clusters of the vine,

the smell of your breath like apples.

that goes down smoothly for my beloved,

gliding through the lips of those who are asleep.

His desire is toward me.

Let’s lodge in the villages.

Let’s see whether the vine has budded,

its blossom is open,

and the pomegranates are in flower.

There I will give you my love.

At our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, new and old,

which I have stored up for you, my beloved.