Song of Solomon 51 Bride: May my beloved enter into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. 2 Groom to Bride: I have arrived in my garden, O my sister, my spouse. I have harvested my myrrh, with my aromatic oils. I have eaten the honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, O most beloved. 3 Bride: I sleep, yet my heart watches. The voice of my beloved knocking: 4 Groom to Bride: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my immaculate one. For my head is full of dew, and the locks of my hair are full of the drops of the night. 5 Bride: I have taken off my tunic; how shall I be clothed in it? I have washed my feet; how shall I spoil them? 6 My beloved put his hand through the window, and my inner self was moved by his touch. 7 I rose up in order to open to my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the finest myrrh. 8 I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved. But he had turned aside and had gone away. My soul melted when he spoke. I sought him, and did not find him. I called, and he did not answer me. 9 The keepers who circulate through the city found me. They struck me, and wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me. 10 I bind you by oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, announce to him that I languish through love. 11 Chorus to Bride: What kind of beloved is your beloved, O most beautiful among women? What kind of beloved is your beloved, so that you would bind us by oath? 12 Bride: My beloved is white and ruddy, elect among thousands. 13 His head is like the finest gold. His locks are like the heights of palm trees, and as black as a raven. 14 His eyes are like doves, which have been washed with milk over rivulets of waters, and which reside near plentiful streams. 15 His cheeks are like a courtyard of aromatic plants, sown by perfumers. His lips are like lilies, dripping with the best myrrh. 16 His hands are smoothed gold, full of hyacinths. His abdomen is ivory, accented with sapphires. 17 Chorus to Bride: Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? To where has your beloved turned aside, so that we may seek him with you?
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