THE song of songs, which is Shalomah's.
Let him touch me with the kisses of his mouth: for your affections are better than wine.
Because of the savor of your good ointments your name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the damsels love you.
Draw me, we will run after you: the king has brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in you, we shall commemorate your affections more than wine: the yashariym love you.
I am black, and comely, O ye daughters of Yerushalayim, as the tents of Qedar, as the shoots of Shalomah.
It must not be you staring at me because I am black, because I am tanned from the sun: my mother's sons were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; vineyards which were not my own.
Tell you, O soul of mine whom she loves, where you feed, where are you reclining at noon? why should I become as one being muffled by the droves of your partners?
If you know not, the lovely one among women, go your way by the footsteps of the flock, and graze your kids beside the shepherds' tents.
I have compared you, O my love, to a company of horses for Phar'oh's chariots.
Your cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, your neck with chains threaded gems.
We will make you bead rows of gold with specks of silver.
Still the king's divan sends forth the scent of him from the spikenard he gave me.
A pouch of myrrh is my darling to me; he is lodging between my breasts.
My darling is to me as a cluster of the henna blossom in the vineyards of Eyn Gediy.
Behold you, lovely shepherdess; behold you, you have the lovely eyes of doves.
Behold you, my darling, you are pleasant indeed: also our couch is flourishing.
The beams of our court are cedar, and our rafters and panels are of fir.