Song of Songs 1:8
If thou knowest not, O fair among women, Get thee forth by the traces of the flock, And feed thy kids by the shepherds' dwellings!
If thou knowest not, O fair among women, Get thee forth by the traces of the flock, And feed thy kids by the shepherds' dwellings!
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7Declare to me, thou whom my soul hath loved, Where thou delightest, Where thou liest down at noon, For why am I as one veiled, By the ranks of thy companions?
1Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee?
2My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3I `am' my beloved's, and my beloved `is' mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.
4Fair `art' thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.
5Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair `is' as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,
9To my joyous one in chariots of Pharaoh, I have compared thee, my friend,
1Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, lo, thou `art' fair, Thine eyes `are' doves behind thy veil, Thy hair as a row of the goats That have shone from mount Gilead,
2Thy teeth as a row of the shorn ones That have come up from the washing, For all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.
8I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved -- What do ye tell him? that I `am' sick with love!
9What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, O fair among women? What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, That thus thou hast adjured us?
3The watchmen have found me, (Who are going round about the city), `Him whom my soul have loved saw ye?'
4But a little I passed on from them, Till I found him whom my soul hath loved! I seized him, and let him not go, Till I brought him in unto the house of my mother -- And the chamber of her that conceived me.
5I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
6Who `is' this coming up from the wilderness, Like palm-trees of smoke, Perfumed `with' myrrh and frankincense, From every powder of the merchant?
7I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
8The voice of my beloved! lo, this -- he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
9My beloved `is' like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this -- he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice.
10My beloved hath answered and said to me, `Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away,
14A cluster of cypress `is' my beloved to me, In the vineyards of En-Gedi!
15Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, Lo, thou `art' fair, thine eyes `are' doves!
16Lo, thou `art' fair, my love, yea, pleasant, Yea, our couch `is' green,
13The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,
14Or to a young one of the harts on mountains of spices!
9One is my dove, my perfect one, One she `is' of her mother, The choice one she `is' of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.
10`Who `is' this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'
6How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
5Thy two breasts `are' as two fawns, Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies.
6Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, And unto the hill of frankincense.
7Thou `art' all fair, my friend, And a blemish there is not in thee. Come from Lebanon, O spouse,
8Come from Lebanon, come thou in. Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Shenir and Hermon, From the habitations of lions, From the mountains of leopards.
9Thou hast emboldened me, my sister-spouse, Emboldened me with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.
10How wonderful have been thy loves, my sister-spouse, How much better have been thy loves than wine, And the fragrance of thy perfumes than all spices.
16My beloved `is' mine, and I `am' his, Who is delighting among the lilies,
17Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!
1Who doth make thee as a brother to me, Sucking the breasts of my mother? I find thee without, I kiss thee, Yea, they do not despise me,
2I lead thee, I bring thee in unto my mother's house, She doth teach me, I cause thee to drink of the perfumed wine, Of the juice of my pomegranate,
4I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, How ye stir up, And how ye wake the love till she please!
5Who `is' this coming from the wilderness, Hasting herself for her beloved? Under the citron-tree I have waked thee, There did thy mother pledge thee, There she gave a pledge `that' bare thee.
11Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
12We 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;
14My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice `is' sweet, and thy appearance comely.
19A hind of loves, and a roe of grace! Let her loves satisfy thee at all times, In her love magnify thyself continually.
20And why dost thou magnify thyself, My son, with a stranger? And embrace the bosom of a strange woman?
4Draw me: after thee we run, The king hath brought me into his inner chambers, We do joy and rejoice in thee, We mention thy loves more than wine, Uprightly they have loved thee!
23Know well the face of thy flock, Set thy heart to the droves,
8Passing on in the street, near her corner, And the way `to' her house he doth step,
3Thy two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
1I have come in to my garden, my sister-spouse, I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, Yea, drink abundantly, O beloved ones!
2I am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! `Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled `with' dew, My locks `with' drops of the night.'