Song of Songs 5:8
I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved -- What do ye tell him? that I `am' sick with love!
I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved -- What do ye tell him? that I `am' sick with love!
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9What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, O fair among women? What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, That thus thou hast adjured us?
10My beloved `is' clear and ruddy, Conspicuous above a myriad!
1On my couch by night, I sought him whom my soul hath loved; I sought him, and I found him not!
2-- Pray, let me rise, and go round the city, In the streets and in the broad places, I seek him whom my soul hath loved! -- I sought him, and I found him not.
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?
3His left hand `is' under my head, And his right doth embrace me.
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.
6Set me as a seal on thy heart, as a seal on thine arm, For strong as death is love, Sharp as Sheol is jealousy, Its burnings `are' burnings of fire, a flame of Jah!
5Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I `am' sick with love.
6His left hand `is' under my head, And his right doth embrace me.
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,
6I opened to my beloved, But my beloved withdrew -- he passed on, My soul went forth when he spake, I sought him, and found him not. I called him, and he answered me not.
7The watchmen who go round about the city, Found me, smote me, wounded me, Keepers of the walls lifted up my veil from off me.
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,
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?
8If thou knowest not, O fair among women, Get thee forth by the traces of the flock, And feed thy kids by the shepherds' dwellings!
9To my joyous one in chariots of Pharaoh, I have compared thee, my friend,
10I `am' my beloved's, and on me `is' his desire.
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.'
3I have put off my coat, how do I put it on? I have washed my feet, how do I defile them?
16His mouth is sweetness -- and all of him desirable, This `is' my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!
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!
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.
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!
5Dark `am' I, and comely, daughters of Jerusalem, As tents of Kedar, as curtains of Solomon.
6How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
13A bundle of myrrh `is' my beloved to me, Between my breasts it lodgeth.
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!
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.
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,
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;
2So `is' my friend among the daughters!
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.
10`Who `is' this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'
16My beloved `is' mine, and I `am' his, Who is delighting among the lilies,