CHAPTER 7
How
beautiful
are your sandaled
feet,
O daughter
of the prince!
The curves
of your thighs
are like
jewels,
the handiwork
of a master.
Your navel
is a rounded
goblet;
it never
lacks
blended wine.
Your waist
is a mound
of wheat
encircled
by the lilies.
Your neck
is like a tower
made of ivory;
your eyes
are like the pools
of Heshbon
by
the gate
of Bath-rabbim;
your nose
is like the tower
of Lebanon
facing toward
Damascus.
Your head
crowns you
like Mount Carmel,
the hair
of your head
like purple threads;
the king
is captured
in your tresses.
I said,
“I will climb
the palm tree;
I will take hold
of its fruit.”
May your breasts
be
like clusters
of the vine,
the fragrance
of your breath
like apples,
and your mouth
like the finest
wine.
May it flow
smoothly
to my beloved,
gliding gently over
lips
and teeth.
Let us go early
to the vineyards
to see
if
the vine
has budded,
if the blossom
has opened,
if the pomegranates are in bloom—
there
I will give
you my love.
The mandrakes
send forth
a fragrance,
and at
our door
is every
delicacy,
new
as
well as old,
that I have treasured up
for you,
my beloved.