Song of Songs 7
Admiration By The Bridegroom
O prince’s daughter!
The curves of your hips are like jewels,
The work of the hands of an artist.
Which never lacks mixed wine;
Your belly is like a heap of wheat
Fenced about with lilies.
Twins of a gazelle.
Your eyes like the pools in Heshbon
By the gate of Bath-rabbim;
Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon,
Which faces toward Damascus.
And the flowing locks of your head are like purple threads;
The king is captivated by your tresses.
My love, with all your charms!
And your breasts are like its clusters.
I will take hold of its fruit stalks.’
Oh, may your breasts be like clusters of the vine,
And the fragrance of your breath like apples,
“It goes down smoothly for my beloved,
Flowing gently through the lips of those who fall asleep.
And his desire is for me.
Let us spend the night in the villages.
Let us see whether the vine has budded
And its blossoms have opened,
And whether the pomegranates have bloomed.
There I will give you my love.
And over our doors are all choice fruits,
Both new and old,
Which I have saved up for you, my beloved.