| 1 | I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse:
| |
| I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; |
| I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; |
| I have drunk my wine with my milk. |
| Eat, O friends; drink, |
| yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. |
|
|
The Distress of Separation |
| 2 | I sleep, but my heart waketh:
| |
| it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, |
| Open to me, my sister, my love, |
| my dove, my undefiled: |
| for my head is filled with dew, |
| and my locks with the drops of the night. |
|
|
| 3 | I have put off my coat;
| |
| how shall I put it on? |
| I have washed my feet; |
| how shall I defile them? |
|
|
| 4 | My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door,
| |
| and my bowels were moved for him. |
|
|
| 5 | I rose up to open to my beloved;
| |
| and my hands dropped with myrrh, |
| and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, |
| upon the handles of the lock. |
|
|
| 6 | I opened to my beloved;
| |
| but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: |
| my soul failed when he spake: |
| I sought him, but I could not find him; |
| I called him, but he gave me no answer. |
|
|
| 7 | The watchmen that went about the city found me,
| |
| they smote me, they wounded me; |
| the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me. |
|
|
| 8 | I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
| |
| if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, |
| that I am sick of love. |
|
|
The Bride Praises the Bridegroom |
| 9 | What is thy beloved more than another beloved,
| |
| O thou fairest among women? |
| What is thy beloved more than another beloved, |
| that thou dost so charge us? |
|
|
| 10 | My beloved is white and ruddy,
| |
| the chiefest among ten thousand. |
|
|
| 11 | His head is as the most fine gold;
| |
| his locks are bushy, and black as a raven: |
|
|
| 12 | his eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters,
| |
| washed with milk, and fitly set: |
|
|
| 13 | his cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:
| |
| his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh: |
|
|
| 14 | his hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:
| |
| his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires: |
|
|
| 15 | his legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold:
| |
| his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars: |
|
|
| 16 | his mouth is most sweet:
| |
| yea, he is altogether lovely. |
| This is my beloved, and this is my friend, |
| O daughters of Jerusalem. |
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment