And hear the song of Shulamith,
A song which sings of strong desire,
The song of all songs, which is Solomon’s.
And Shulamith sings:
O let him kiss me—passionately now
With all the kisses his mouth contains,
For his lovemaking is tender and deep,
Better than wine for the yearning taste.
Your ointments savor of all that is good,
Your name is ointment, and perfumed oil,
Poured gently out and dripping down,
And that is what the virgins love.
So draw me now, and we will run,
A king has brought me to his bed.
We will be glad, we will rejoice,
Drinking in love that is deeper than wine.
O how the upright love you still.
I am dark, but beautiful yet,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
As distant tents in Kedar are dark,
As dark as the curtains of Solomon.
So now your eyes must turn away
For I am dark, with leathery skin.
The sun has touched my face and arms
While tending to the vineyards here.
My brothers were angry and made me work,
Keeping the vineyards, but my own is neglected.
Tell me, my lover, whom my soul loves so well,
Where do you graze your flock at noon?
And why should I act the brazen part,
Walking about like some shepherd’s whore?
And Solomon speaks:
If you do not know this, O fairest of women,
Go your way now by the paths of the flock,
And find where the shepherds are tending and feeding.
There you will find me with no one the wiser.
I have compared you, my love, and my darling
To a mare among stallions all maddened with lust,
And these frenzied stallions pull chariots to war
But now are distracted and conquered completely
By strength that is greater, far greater than theirs.
Your cheeks are made comely with rows of bright jewels,
Your neck is adorned with chains that are golden.
And so we will crown you, a pure, royal maiden,
With borders of gold, and bright studs ensilvered.
And Shulamith sings:
While the king sits at table, reclining at ease,
My spikenard sends out an alluring aroma.
A bundle of myrrh is my love now to me,
And he shall rest here where this sachet now is,
And he shall be captive between these soft guardians.
My love is to me as a cluster of camphire
From the far vineyards that grow at Engedi.
Behold, you are fair, my love, you are fair,
And you have the eyes of white fluttering doves.
Behold, you are fair, my love, you are pleasant.
Our bed is deep green, and our beams are all cedar,
Our rafters are fashioned and made out of fir.
I am the rose, the rose of clear Sharon,
And I am the lily of mist-covered valleys.
And Solomon speaks:
As the lily competing with thorns and with thistles,
So is my love among all the daughters.
And Shulamith sings:
As the apricot tree among trees of the forest,
So my beloved excels all the sons.
Under his shadow I sat with delight—
His hanging fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me for love to his banqueting hall,
His banner was love, with his love ruling over me.
Stay me with flagons, bring comfort with apples,
For I am made sick from yearning so much.
His left hand is under my head, and he holds me;
His right hand embraces and touches my garden.
I charge you now, swear to me, daughters of Zion,
By the deer, by all of the antelope grazing,
Do not awaken my love till he pleases.
The voice of my love! Look, he comes leaping
Like a goat in the mountains, skipping down hillsides.
And like a young deer, he stands at the wall,
Looks through the lattice, appears at my window.
And then my love spoke, and he called me away.
“Rise up, my love, my fair one, come quickly,
For winter is passing, the rains are now ceasing.
The flowers appear, the doves start their singing.
The green tree with figs is starting to flourish,
And vines with the tender grapes put forth their scent.
Rise up, my love, my fair one, come with me.”
And Solomon speaks:
My shy little dove, you are hiding in clefts,
In secret ravines, where no one can find you.
Show me your face, for your face is so lovely,
Speak to me words, for sweet is your voice.
Banish the foxes that ruin the vineyard,
Banish the foxes that spoil tender grapes.
And Shulamith sings:
My beloved is mine, and I am now his.
He feeds among lilies, he grazes at daybreak.
The shadows are fleeing, so turn, my beloved,
And be like a deer that runs to the mountains.
By night on my bed I have sought my true lover,
I sought him but all of my searching was vain.
I will arise and go out in the city,
While searching the streets for the one my soul wants.
I sought him but all of my searching was vain.
The sentries protecting our city have found me,
And so I have asked them about my true lover,
And if they have seen him walk by in the darkness.
But after I passed them I found my beloved.
I made him my captive and held to him tightly
And brought him inside that most fortunate chamber
Where my mother in loving conceived me for loving.
I charge you now, swear to me, daughters of Zion,
By the deer, by all of the antelope grazing,
Do not awaken my love till he pleases.
What is this pillar of smoke in the desert?
Perfumed now with frankincense, scented with myrrh?
Who brings these spices that merchants obtain for us?
Behold his sedan, this is Solomon’s carriage
And walking around it are hard, valiant warriors
Who carry great swords; they are expert in warfare.
Each of them carries a sword on his thigh
Because of the dangers that come with the night,
Some of them soft and filled with delight.
Solomon made for himself this great masterpiece
With timber brought in from the mountains of Lebanon.
The poles that uphold it are covered with silver.
The canopy gold, the covering purple,
The insides were lined by the daughters of Zion,
Inlays of leather all worked with affection.
Go on, now, daughters of Zion, rejoicing,
Look at your king, and the crown he is wearing.
That crown is the same one his mother bestowed on him
The day of his wedding and joyful espousals.
When Bathsheba saw it, she had joy full of gladness.
And Solomon speaks:
Behold, you are fair, my love, you are fair;
With eyes like a dove, and raven black hair.
Like Gilead’s slope, with black goats streaming down it,
Your hair is alive and your tresses bewitching.
Your teeth are like sheep that have just now been shorn,
Just up from the washing and all of them twins.
Your lips are like scarlet, and all your speech radiant,
Your temples just like the rich pomegranate’s fruit.
Your neck is as stately as the armory of David,
With a necklace of shields one thousand great warriors
Left on the wall in stately array
Before going home to ravish their lovers.
Your breasts are young deer that graze in the lilies,
Until the day breaks and the shadows all fly.
And so I will move to the mountains of frankincense,
Mountains of myrrh that are beckoning joyfully.
You are all fair, my love, with no blemishes.
Come with me now, my bride and my sister,
Leave now from Lebanon, gaze from the hills,
Look from the peak of Amana and Shenir.
Stand at the top of mount Hermon, and gaze there,
Look from the mountains of lions and leopards.
You have ravished my heart, my bride, and my sister,
Ravished my heart with just one of your eyes.
One link of the chain that hangs at your neck
Has ravished my heart and has bound it securely.
How fair is your love, my bride and my sister,
Much better than wine all your lovemaking arts.
The smell of your ointments is better than spices,
Your lips, my dear bride, are sweet as the honeycomb.
Milk and rich honey are under your tongue,
I enter the promised land tasting you there.
The smell of your garments is cedar from Lebanon.
A garden enclosed, my sister, my bride,
And the well in your garden is sealed with a covenant,
Clean fountains await me, the springs are secure.
Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates here,
With fruits that are pleasant, with camphire and spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron, calamus, cinnamon,
With trees full of frankincense, myrrh and aloes.
All the chief spices are there in abundance,
As well as a fountain of gardens refreshing me,
A well of deep waters, alive in the drinking,
And streams from the mountains on Lebanon’s heights.
And Shulamith sings:
Awake, O great north wind, come blow on this garden,
Come south wind, and carry the spices away,
And then my aroma may come to my lover
And urge him to come to his garden for loving.
A sweet gate he enters and enters completely,
Here he may come and taste pleasant fruit.
And Solomon speaks:
I have entered my garden, my bride and my sister,
I gathered this myrrh with my spices tonight.
I have eaten my honeycomb, tasted my honey,
I drank all the wine that you gave with your milk.
I tasted the promised land under your tongue.
Chorus:
Eat and drink deeply, O friends and dear lovers,
Drink and eat richly, beloved in love.
Drink now, be drunken in sexual delights.
And Shulamith sings:
I sleep, but my heart awakens me slowly,
The voice of my lover entreats me, his knocking
Is urgent, his pleading is heard at the door.
“Open to me, my pure love and my sister,
The dew has descended, my hair is now drenched.”
But I made excuses, my cloak is now hanging,
My feet have been washed—must I wash them again?
But then my true lover, in urgency, aching,
Reached in his hand through the hole at the door,
This image aroused me, and yearning to open
My hands dripped with myrrh as I reached for the handle.
I opened the way, but my lover had left me,
My soul failed within me, his voice had departed.
I sought him, but could not find him in searching,
I desperately called him; he gave me no answer.
The watchmen that stand on the walls of the city
Discovered me searching, they struck and they wounded me.
These sentries have taken my veil away,
And I am abandoned, alone and forsaken.
I charge you, O daughters of Zion, my sisters,
If you find my lover, then tell him from me
That I am made faint, I am sick in his absence.
Chorus:
Why does your lover excel all the others?
O fairest of women, why should we heed you?
What is your lover that you have so charged us?
And Shulamith sings:
My lover is more than ten thousands of lovers,
His skin is pure white with a ruddy complexion.
His head is like gold, refined by a master,
His hair is dark thickness, and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves by the rivers of water,
Washed with pure milk, and set fitly with wisdom.
His cheeks are just like a bed of pure spices,
His lips are like lilies, with sweet smelling myrrh.
His hands are as gold rings and set well with beryl.
His tusk is pure ivory with sapphire lines,
Bringing me comfort and all that delights me.
His legs are as marble, in sockets of gold,
His face is as honest as the cedars of Lebanon.
His mouth is most sweet, and his taste is most lovely.
This is my lover, O daughters of Zion,
This is my friend, and I yearn for his presence.
Chorus:
Where has your lover gone, fairest of women?
Where is he now?—we will seek him with you.
And Shulamith sings:
My lover has gone to his garden of pleasures,
To beds of fine spices, to feed in his gardens,
To gather the lilies that grow there to please him.
I am my lover’s, my lover is mine,
He feeds and he grazes among the white lilies.
I am the garden my lover possesses.
And Solomon speaks:
You are lovely, my sister, as lovely as Tirzah,
Comely as Zion, that most beautiful city.
Yet terror undoes me and beauty majestic
For all of your pure and sensual loveliness
Are terrible here, an army with banners.
Turn now your eyes so that they cannot see me,
For you have now conquered this king over armies.
Down Gilead’s slope, your hair is now streaming,
Like a rich flock of goats, dark black in the distance.
Your teeth are like sheep just up from the washing,
All of them twins, not one of them single.
Your temples are like the rich pomegranate’s fruit,
Beneath those rich locks that frame all this beauty.
Sixty some queens I have had to my bed now,
And eighty some concubines visit me there.
Virgins await me, and they are not numbered.
But you are my dove, my one undefiled.
You are the daughter of your honored mother,
You are the choice of the one who conceived you.
The daughters all saw you, and blessed your great beauty;
The queens and the concubines, resisting all envy,
Have honored your loveliness, and they also praised you.
Who is this woman as bright as the morning?
Who is this woman who is fair as the moon?
Clear as the sun and her loveliness frightens me,
Terrible now as an army with banners?
And so I went down to the garden of nuts
To look on the fruits of the valley which grow there,
To see if the vines in the vineyard had flourished,
And whether the pomegranates started to bud.
Before I considered, before I had thought of it,
She brought and she seated me there in her chariot,
That sweet place for riding when riding past nightfall.
Chorus:
O Shulamith, Shulamith, turn to us now.
Come back to us here so that we might behold you.
And Solomon speaks:
What will you see in dear Shulamith then?
You see the great dance of two numinous armies,
That place where great Joshua took off his sandals.
O prince’s daughter! Your feet are the loveliest,
The joints of your thighs are like jewels in a casket,
The work of a craftsman both cunning and wise.
Your sweet well a goblet containing rich liquors,
Which only the lord of the garden may draw.
Your belly a mound of wheat that is ripened,
Set round with lilies, inviting the gaze.
Your breasts are twin deer that call me to stroke them,
But your neck is a proud and high tower of ivory.
Your eyes are like fishpools in Heshbon, reflecting,
By the gate of Bathrabbim, reflecting love there.
Your nose is as regal as the high tower of Lebanon
Which looks toward Damascus, surveying the highway.
Your head is mount Carmel, the queen of all mountains.
Your hair is deep jet, and holds your king captive.
How fair and how pleasant you are for delights!
Your height is a palm tree, your breasts are the fruit of it.
I said to myself, I will climb up this palm tree,
I will take hold of limbs to aid in my climbing,
And then I will reach and touch what I yearn for,
Take hold of your breasts, and taste their sweet fruit.
Your breath smells like apples, your kisses delightful,
The roof of your mouth is rich wine for drinking
And tasting it there makes the wine go down sweetly,
Causing the lips of those who are sleeping
To move as though speaking, or kissing, or tasting.
And Shulamith sings:
I am my lover’s, his desire is toward me.
Come, my beloved, let us go to the fields.
Let us lodge in the villages, find solitude there.
Let us go early and visit the vineyards,
Let us see if vines flourish, if young grapes appear.
If the pomegranates bud, then that is a sign to me.
There I will give you all manner of love.
The mandrake’s aroma has captured my senses,
And there in our gates are all pleasant fruits,
The harvest is sweet that I have laid up for you.
Oh, my beloved, if you will just come with me,
Lie with now, I have lessons to teach you.
If you could have been just my own little brother,
Who suckled the same breasts that my mother gave to me.
Then when I saw you outside in the open,
How I would kiss you—and not be despised for it.
Then I would take you, and lead you, entice you
And bring you back home to my dear mother’s chamber,
The one who has taught me these courtesan’s arts.
Then I would cause you to drink from the goblet,
Containing spiced wine from the pomegranate’s fruit.
His left hand is under my head, and he holds me;
His right hand embraces and fondles his garden,
Preparing the ground for his diligent plowing.
I charge you, O daughters of Zion, I charge you
That you do not waken my love till he pleases.
Chorus:
Who is this coming up out of the wilderness?
Leaning and resting upon a strong arm?
And Shulamith sings:
I raised you up, it was under the apricots,
That was the place where your mother delivered you,
So set me a seal on your arm, on your heart,
Our love is far stronger than proud death can be.
Jealousy bites, and is cruel as the grave,
But the coals of true love are the coals of a fire
That burn with white heat, the great flame of Jehovah.
Water is helpless, deep floods cannot drown it.
So if a great man tried to give his possessions.
All his possessions, and all his great wealth,
To buy that true love which is far beyond payment,
He would be damned as a fool and a lecher.
Chorus:
Here, little sister, come heed your fond brothers,
Your breasts are not grown yet, just two timid fawns.
Why all this talk about loving and lovers?
What shall we do when some suitor comes calling?
If she is a wall, we will honor her handsomely
And build a great palace of silver upon it.
If she is a door, too willing for suitors,
Then we will enclose her and board her with cedar.
And Shulamith sings:
I am a wall, but my breasts are like towers,
And I am the one who found favor with Solomon.
He had a vineyard he kept at Baalhamon
He let out the vineyard for keepers to tend it,
And each of the keepers, to pay for the privilege,
Gave silver, a thousand, and no overpayment.
But this vineyard is mine and is mine to bestow,
And you O king Solomon must have a thousand
Of shekels in silver to give as a bride gift,
That those who have tended this garden before you
May have their two hundred for diligent keeping—
I mean my dear brothers, who tended while sleeping.
And Solomon speaks:
You are the one who dwells deep in the gardens,
And all your companions can hear your sweet voice.
Cause me to hear it, and welcome me gladly.
And Shulamith sings:
Make haste, my lover, and come to me now,
And be like a deer upon mountains of spices.