Your eyes are like doves by the channels of water which are bathing themselves in milk, sitting within the rims. The fragrance of your oils better than all the forests and all the trees… Awake, O’ north wind and come in. O’ south wind, breathe upon my garden. Let its perfumes trickle… O’ how wonderful is our love, simple and growing like a rose, yet ready to fill the earth with our sweet delight… Like a fig tree among the amaze of the land; so are my thoughts of you… Your shade I have passionately desired, and there I have sat down, and your fruit has been sweet to my palate…
On my bed during the nights I have sought the one whom my soul has loved; I sought her, but I did not find her. Let me rise up and go round about in the city; in the streets and the public squares set me seek the one who my soul has loved. Hardly have I passed a pleasant sight until I found the one whom my soul has loved. “O’ my love’ I say “O’ be watchful, for men are like foxes with their swords upon their thighs ready to spoil the fruits that perch on the vine. Until the day breaks and the shadows have fled I shall go to the mountain of pain and the hill of time. Watch my love as I am like a stag climbing among the thorns that fill this mountain. With one last glance I say “I will return…”
I have eaten my honeycomb along with my honey; I have drunk my wine along with my milk. Hark; I hear words… are those of my brother? “Eat O’ companions! Drink and become drunk with expressions of endearment…” Yet the words are clouded among the mist of my pain… I am asleep yet my heart is awake. There is the sound of my dear one walking. How beautiful your steps have become in your sandals… the curving of your thighs are like ornaments; the work of artisans hands. How beautiful you are, and how pleasant you are to me, among exquisite delights! I have said that I shall climb the fig tree... that I may once again swing from its vines and eat of its fruit; that our love becomes clusters of the vine… and their fragrance among those of pomegranates. My left hand would be under your head and my right hand - it would embrace you… O’ how I long to climb the vine…
As the snows fall and the sky fills I come upon my hill. O’ my dove in the retreats of the crag; in the concealed place of the steep way, show me your form. Let me hear your voice. For your voice is pleasurable and your form is comely! O’ how beautiful your expressions of endearment are! You are altogether beautiful o’ girl companion of mine. There is no defect in you… Look, for I behold the future; there I shall give my expressions of endearment to you…
Behold; the sun is rising and the dew clears the whisper of our touching - it is whispered among the sleeping ones… The mandrakes themselves give their fragrance and by our entrance ways there are all sorts of choicest of fruits. The new ones as well as the old I have treasured up for you… As for the fig tree, it has gained a mature color. For its early figs and the vines are abloom; they have given their fragrance. Rise up, come, o’ beautiful one of mine… rise up and come away. O’ Dear one, let us go forth to the field, let us rise early and go to the vineyards that we may see weather the vine has sprouted. O’ how the blossom has burst open; with comb honey your lips keep dripping. Honey and milk are under your tongue. Your skin is a paradise of spring gardens, a well of fresh water. I have come into my garden, o’ the pleasure it has to embrace. I have plucked my myrrh along with my spice. Come away o’ my love, my rose, my dove, my fig tree. Let us embrace in the hills, in the forest, in the vineyards. Draw me with you; sit us run, let us dash through the fields where the green grass grows…
As I awaken from my vision, the haughty eyes of an earthling man become low and I drop in weakness from the sight… The values of gods themselves pass away at the mere thought of reality… O’ how I long for my love, my rose, my dove, my fig tree… O’ how I long to swing from the vines… O’ haw I long to taste the fruits where the tender grapes appear…
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