Song of Songs 4:12
A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; A locked up spring, A sealed fountain.
A locked up garden is my sister, my bride; A locked up spring, A sealed fountain.
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1 I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Friends Eat, friends! Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved. Beloved
2 I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My hair with the dampness of the night.
5 Your two breasts are like two fawns That are twins of a roe, Which feed among the lilies.
6 Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, To the hill of frankincense.
7 You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.
8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, With me from Lebanon. Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Senir and Hermon, From the lions' dens, From the mountains of the leopards.
9 You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride. You have ravished my heart with one of your eyes, With one chain of your neck.
10 How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine! The fragrance of your perfumes than all manner of spices!
11 Your lips, my bride, drip like the honeycomb. Honey and milk are under your tongue. The smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
13 Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits: Henna with spikenard plants,
15 A fountain of gardens, A well of living waters, Flowing streams from Lebanon. Beloved
16 Awake, north wind; and come, you south; Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, And taste his precious fruits. Lover
13 My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh, That lies between my breasts.
14 My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms From the vineyards of En Gedi. Lover
1 Where has your beloved gone, you fairest among women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you? Beloved
2 My beloved has gone down to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3 I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine. He browses among the lilies,
4 You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, Lovely as Jerusalem, Awesome as an army with banners.
12 Let's go early up to the vineyards. Let's see whether the vine has budded, Its blossom is open, And the pomegranates are in flower. There I will give you my love.
10 My beloved spoke, and said to me, Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.
9 Your mouth like the best wine, That goes down smoothly for my beloved, Gliding through the lips of those who are asleep.
10 I am my beloved's. His desire is toward me.
16 My beloved is mine, and I am his. He browses among the lilies.
18 Let your spring be blessed. Rejoice in the wife of your youth.
19 A loving doe and a graceful deer-- Let her breasts satisfy you at all times. Be captivated always with her love.
1 I am a rose of Sharon, A lily of the valleys.
2 As a lily among thorns, So is my love among the daughters. Beloved
3 As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, So is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, His fruit was sweet to my taste.
4 He brought me to the banquet hall. His banner over me is love.
4 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, That you not stir up, nor awaken love, Until it so desires. Friends
5 Who is this who comes up from the wilderness, Leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I aroused you. There your mother conceived you. There she was in labor and bore you.
8 We have a little sister. She has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister In the day when she is to be spoken for?
9 If she is a wall, We will build on her a turret of silver. If she is a door, We will enclose her with boards of cedar. Beloved
16 His mouth is sweetness; Yes, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, Daughters of Jerusalem. Friends
2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; For your love is better than wine.
13 You who dwell in the gardens, with friends in attendance, Let me hear your voice! Beloved
14 Come away, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices!
13 The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, And come away. Lover
14 My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
9 My dove, my perfect one, is unique. She is her mother's only daughter. She is the favorite one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed, The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
4 I had scarcely passed from them, When I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go, Until I had brought him into my mother's house, Into the chamber of her who conceived me.
5 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That you not stir up, nor awaken love, Until it so desires.
6 Who is this who comes up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all spices of the merchant?
1 Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, That descend from Mount Gilead.
4 Take me away with you. Let us hurry. The king has brought me into his chambers. Friends We will be glad and rejoice in you. We will praise your love more than wine! Beloved They are right to love you.
3 Your lips are like scarlet thread. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.
1 Let me sing for my well beloved a song of my beloved about his vineyard. My beloved had a vineyard on a very fruitful hill.
16 Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, yes, pleasant; And our couch is verdant. Lover
5 I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, My fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the lock.
7 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That you not stir up, nor awaken love, Until it so desires.