How beautiful you are, my love, how very beautiful! 

 

Your eyes behind your veil remind me of those of a dove; your hair makes me think of the black, wavy fleece of a flock of the Arabian goats which one sees trailing down Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes which have come up from the washing, of which all are in pairs, and none is missing among them. Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate behind your veil. Your neck is like the tower of David, built for an arsenal, whereon hang a thousand bucklers, all of them shields of warriors. Your two breasts are like two fawns, like twins of a gazelle that feed among the lilies. 

 

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away, in my thoughts I will get to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense. 

 

O my love, how beautiful you are! There is no flaw in you! Come away with me from Lebanon my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Depart from the top of Amana, from the peak of Senir and Hermon, from the lions’ dens, from the mountains of the leopards. You have ravished my heart and given me courage, my sister, my bride; you have ravished my heart and given me courage with one look from your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. 

 

How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine! And the fragrance of your ointments than all spices! Your lips, O my bride, drop honey as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue. And the odor of your garments is like the odor of Lebanon. A garden enclosed and barred is my sister, my bride–a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates or a paradise with precious fruits, henna with spikenard plants, spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all the chief spices. You are a fountain springing up in a garden, a well of living waters, and flowing streams from Lebanon. 

 

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my balsam and spice from your sweet words, I have gathered the richest perfumes and spices. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, feast on, O revelers of the palace; you can never make my lover disloyal to me! Drink, yes, drink abundantly of love, O precious one, for now I know you are mine, irrevocably mine!

 

Taken from “The Song of Solomon”

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