Song of Songs 7:2
Thy waist `is' a basin of roundness, It lacketh not the mixture, Thy body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
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,
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,
5 Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
6 How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
7 This thy stature hath been like to a palm, And thy breasts to clusters.
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,
9 And thy palate as the good wine --' Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
10 I `am' my beloved's, and on me `is' his desire.
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.
1 Lo, 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,
2 Thy 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.
3 As a thread of scarlet `are' thy lips, And thy speech `is' comely, As the work of the pomegranate `is' thy temple behind thy veil,
4 As the tower of David `is' thy neck, built for an armoury, The chief of the shields are hung on it, All shields of the mighty.
5 Thy two breasts `are' as two fawns, Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies.
6 Till 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.
7 Thou `art' all fair, my friend, And a blemish there is not in thee. Come from Lebanon, O spouse,
12 His eyes as doves by streams of water, Washing in milk, sitting in fulness.
13 His cheeks as a bed of the spice, towers of perfumes, His lips `are' lilies, dropping flowing myrrh,
14 His hands rings of gold, set with beryl, His heart bright ivory, covered with sapphires,
15 His limbs pillars of marble, Founded on sockets of fine gold, His appearance as Lebanon, choice as the cedars.
16 His mouth is sweetness -- and all of him desirable, This `is' my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!
4 Fair `art' thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.
5 Turn 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,
6 Thy teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.
7 As the work of the pomegranate `is' thy temple behind thy veil.
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!
9 To my joyous one in chariots of Pharaoh, I have compared thee, my friend,
10 Comely have been thy cheeks with garlands, Thy neck with chains.
9 Thou hast emboldened me, my sister-spouse, Emboldened me with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.
10 How 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.
11 Thy lips drop honey, O spouse, Honey and milk `are' under thy tongue, And the fragrance of thy garments `Is' as the fragrance of Lebanon.
12 A garden shut up `is' my sister-spouse, A spring shut up -- a fountain sealed.
13 Thy shoots a paradise of pomegranates, With precious fruits,
15 A fount of gardens, a well of living waters, And flowings from Lebanon!
7 A myriad -- as the shoot of the field I have made thee, And thou art multiplied, and art great, And comest in with an excellent adornment, Breasts have been formed, and thy hair hath grown -- And thou, naked and bare!
13 A bundle of myrrh `is' my beloved to me, Between my breasts it lodgeth.
14 A cluster of cypress `is' my beloved to me, In the vineyards of En-Gedi!
15 Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, Lo, thou `art' fair, thine eyes `are' doves!
16 Lo, thou `art' fair, my love, yea, pleasant, Yea, our couch `is' green,
19 A hind of loves, and a roe of grace! Let her loves satisfy thee at all times, In her love magnify thyself continually.
13 And thou dost put on gold and silver, And thy clothing `is' fine linen, And figured silk and embroidery, Fine flour, and honey, and oil thou hast eaten, And thou art very very beautiful, And dost go prosperously to the kingdom.
14 And go forth doth thy name among nations, Because of thy beauty -- for it `is' complete, In My honour that I have set upon thee, An affirmation of the Lord Jehovah.
1 I 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!
10 I `am' a wall, and my breasts as towers, Then I have been in his eyes as one finding peace.
2 Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth, For better `are' thy loves than wine.
3 For fragrance `are' thy perfumes good. Perfume emptied out -- thy name, Therefore have virgins loved thee!
4 Draw 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!
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;
10 `Who `is' this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'
2 I 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,