Woman: Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth for his love is more exciting than wine; the king has brought me to his room, I will recall thy love more than wine. My king is at table, my own perfume fills the air; my lover has the scent of myrrh, he shall lie all night on my breasts. Like an apple tree among the trees of a grove, so is my beloved compared to other men, I love to sit in its shadow, and its fruit is sweet to my taste. He brought me to his festive hall, and raised the banner of love over me. Stay me with flagons and comfort me with apples, for I am faint with love. His left hand is under my head and his right hand caresses me. O my sisters, disturb not my lover, till he pleases. O my dove, in the cleft of the rock, in the secret hiding of the stair. My beloved is mine, I am his, he feeds among the lilies.
Man: Behold how fair thou art, my love, thy hair is of the balm of Gilead, thy teeth white as the fresh shorn sheep, thy lips are scarlet, thy speech charms all. Thy breasts are as twin young roses, that thrive among the lilies. Until daybreak and the shadows flee, I will visit the mountain of myrrh, the hill of frankincense. Thou has ravished my heart, my sweetheart, my bride, how much better is thy love than mine. And the smell of thy person than all the spices. Honey and milk are under thy tongue. Thy garments are like the smell of cedar, thou art a garden enclosed, orchard of pleasure fruits, all the chief spices, a well of living waters. There are threescore queens and fourscore concubines and virgins without number await. My spotless dove is the one.
Woman: Awake O north wind, blow on my garden. Fill the air with fragrance, let my lover come to his garden and eat his fruit of delight.
Man: I have entered my garden, my sweetheart, my bride, I am gathering my spices and myrrh. I am eating my honey, I am drinking my wine. O beloved, drink copiously.
Woman: I have already disrobed. Why should I get dressed again? Carefully bathed, shall I rise? My lover put his hand to the doorhole and my body thrilled and moved. I rose up to my beloved, my hands dripped with myrrh, fingers of sweet myrrh grasped the handle. My lover is handsome and strong, he is chief in ten thousand. His cheeks are as beds of herbs, spices and flowers. His lips are like lilies wet with liquid fragrant myrrh.
Man: The curve and join of your thighs are as jewels to be worked by a craftsman. Thy navel is like a chalice, never empty of cordial, thy belly is like a sheaf of wheat set with lilies, thy breasts are as twin roses. The delights of your love are without number. You are as graceful as a palm tree; I will clasp the boughs. Your breasts are as clusters of grapes. Your breath the fragrance of apples, and your mouth the finest wine. Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove so spotless.
Woman: My mother instructs me, have you drink the juice of my pomegranate, Left hand under my head, right hand to caress me. Quickly my love, be like a young stag on the mound of spice.
Category: Lovers on Love Author: The Song of Songs Source:
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