Song of Solomon 6–7

The Chorus

¹6So where has this love of yours gone,

fair one?

Where on earth can he be?

Can we help you look for him?

The Woman

^2–3Never mind. My lover is already on his way to his garden,

to browse among the flowers, touching the colors and forms.

I am my lover’s and my lover is mine.

He caresses the sweet-smelling flowers.

The Man

^4–7Dear, dear friend and lover,

you’re as beautiful as Tirzah, city of delights,

Lovely as Jerusalem, city of dreams,

the ravishing visions of my ecstasy.

Your beauty is too much for me—I’m in over my head.

I’m not used to this! I can’t take it in.

Your hair flows and shimmers

like a flock of goats in the distance

streaming down a hillside in the sunshine.

Your smile is generous and full—

expressive and strong and clean.

Your veiled cheeks

are soft and radiant.

^8–9There’s no one like her on earth,

never has been, never will be.

She’s a woman beyond compare.

My dove is perfection,

Pure and innocent as the day she was born,

and cradled in joy by her mother.

Everyone who came by to see her

exclaimed and admired her—

All the fathers and mothers, the neighbors and friends,

blessed and praised her:

¹⁰“Has anyone ever seen anything like this—

dawn-fresh, moon-lovely, sun-radiant,

ravishing as the night sky with its galaxies of stars?”

^11–12One day I went strolling through the orchard,

looking for signs of spring,

Looking for buds about to burst into flower,

anticipating readiness, ripeness.

Before I knew it my heart was raptured,

carried away by lofty thoughts!

¹³Dance, dance, dear Shulammite, Angel-Princess!

Dance, and we’ll feast our eyes on your grace!

Everyone wants to see the Shulammite dance

her victory dances of love and peace.

^1–97Shapely and graceful your sandaled feet,

and queenly your movement—

Your limbs are lithe and elegant,

the work of a master artist.

Your body is a chalice,

wine-filled.

Your skin is silken and tawny

like a field of wheat touched by the breeze.

Your breasts are like fawns,

twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is carved ivory, curved and slender.

Your eyes are wells of light, deep with mystery.

Quintessentially feminine!

Your profile turns all heads,

commanding attention.

The feelings I get when I see the high mountain ranges

—stirrings of desire, longings for the heights—

Remind me of you,

and I’m spoiled for anyone else!

Your beauty, within and without, is absolute,

dear lover, close companion.

You are tall and supple, like the palm tree,

and your full breasts are like sweet clusters of dates.

I say, “I’m going to climb that palm tree!

I’m going to caress its fruit!”

Oh yes! Your breasts

will be clusters of sweet fruit to me,

Your breath clean and cool like fresh mint,

your tongue and lips like the best wine.

The Woman

^9–12Yes, and yours are, too—my love’s kisses

flow from his lips to mine.

I am my lover’s.

I’m all he wants. I’m all the world to him!

Come, dear lover—

let’s tramp through the countryside.

Let’s sleep at some wayside inn,

then rise early and listen to bird-song.

Let’s look for wildflowers in bloom,

blackberry bushes blossoming white,

Fruit trees festooned

with cascading flowers.

And there I’ll give myself to you,

my love to your love!

¹³Love-apples drench us with fragrance,

fertility surrounds, suffuses us,

Fruits fresh and preserved

that I’ve kept and saved just for you, my love.