The Song of Songs, which is Shelômôh’s.
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for your love is better than wine.
Because of the savor of your good ointments your name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins 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 will remember your love more than wine: the upright love you.
I am black, but comely, O you daughters of Yerûshâlaim, as the tents of Qêdâr, as the curtains of Shelômôh.
Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun has looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you feed, where you make your flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of your companions?
If you know not, O you fair among women, go your way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed your kids beside the shepherds' tents.
I have compared you, O my love, to a company of horses in Parôh's chariots.
Your cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, your neck with chains of gold.
We will make you borders of gold with studs of silver.
While the king sits at his table, my spikenard sends forth the smell thereof.
A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.
My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Êyn Gedı̂y.
Behold, you are fair, my love; behold, you are fair; you have doves' eyes.
Behold, you are fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green.
The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir.
