Canticum canticorum

I went down to the nut orchard,
to look at the blossoms of the valley,
to see whether the vines had budded,
whether the pomegranates were in bloom.
Before I was aware, my fancy set me
in a chariot beside my prince.

Return, return, O Shulammite
return, return, that we may look upon you.

Why should you look upon the Shulammite,
as upon a dance before two armies?

How graceful are your feet in sandals
O queenly maiden!
Your rounded thighs are like jewels,
the work of a master hand.
Your navel is a rounded bowl
that never lacks mixed wine.
Your belly is a heap of wheat,
encircled with lilies.
Your two breasts ae like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle.
Your neck is like an ivory tower.
Your eyes are pools in Heshbon,
by the gate of Bath-rabbim.
Your head crowns you like Carmel,
and your flowing locks are like purple;
a king is held in captive in the tresses.

How fair and pleasant you are,
O loved one, delectable maiden!
You are as stately as a palm tree,
and you breasts are like its clusters.
I say I will climb the palm tree
and lay hold of its branches.
Oh may your breasts be like clusters of vine,
and the scent of your breath like apples,
and your kisses are like the best wine
that goes down smoothly,
gliding over lips and teeth.
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