Chapter 4

 Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are doves behind thy veil; Thy hair is as a flock of goats, On the slopes of mount Gilead. 

 Thy teeth are like a flock of shorn sheep, Which go up from the washing; Which have all borne twins, And none is barren among them. 

 Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, And thy speech is comely; As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples Behind thy veil. 

 Thy neck is like the tower of David, Built for an armoury: A thousand bucklers hang thereon, All shields of mighty men. 

 Thy two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, Which feed among the lilies. 

 Until the day dawn, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, And to the hill of frankincense. 

 Thou art all fair, my love; And there is no spot in thee. 

 [Come] with me, from Lebanon, [my] spouse, With me from Lebanon, -- Come, look from the top of Amanah, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards. 

 Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, [my] spouse; Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck. 

 How fair is thy love, my sister, [my] spouse! How much better is thy love than wine! And the fragrance of thine ointments than all spices! 

 Thy lips, [my] spouse, drop [as] the honeycomb; Honey and milk are under thy tongue; And the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon. 

 A garden enclosed is my sister, [my] spouse; A spring shut up, a fountain sealed. 

 Thy shoots are a paradise of pomegranates, 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: 

 A fountain in the gardens, A well of living waters, Which stream from Lebanon. 

 Awake, north wind, and come, [thou] south; Blow upon my garden, [that] the spices thereof may flow forth. Let my beloved come into his garden, And eat its precious fruits.