| Chapter 7 |
1 | As the chorus of 'Mahanaim.' How beautiful were thy feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of thy sides [are] as ornaments, Work of the hands of an artificer.
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2 | Thy waist [is] a basin of roundness, It lacketh not the mixture, Thy body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
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3 | Thy two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
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4 | Thy neck as a tower of the ivory, Thine eyes pools in Heshbon, near the gate of Bath-Rabbim, Thy face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,
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5 | Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
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6 | How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
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7 | This thy stature hath been like to a palm, And thy breasts to clusters.
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8 | I said, 'Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,
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9 | And thy palate as the good wine --' Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
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10 | I [am] my beloved's, and on me [is] his desire.
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11 | Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
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12 | We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, We see if the vine hath flourished, The sweet smelling-flower hath opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, There do I give to thee my loves;
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13 | The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, yea, old, my beloved, I laid up for thee!
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