Song of Songs 4

hinnakh yafah rayati hinnakh yafah enayikh yonim mibba'ad letsammatekh sarekh ke'eder ha'izzim sheggaleshu mehar gilad

Ah, you are fair, my darling, Ah, you are fair. Your eyes are like doves Behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats Streaming down Mount Gilead.

shinnayikh ke'eder haqqetsuvot she'alu min-harakhtsah shekkullam matimot veshakkulah en bahem

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes Climbing up from the washing pool; All of them bear twins, And not one loses her young.

kekhut hashani siftotayikh umidbarekh naveh kefelakh harimmon raqqatekh mibba'ad letsammatekh

Your lips are like a crimson thread, Your mouth is lovely. Your brow behind your veil [Gleams] like a pomegranate split open.

kemigdal david tsavvarekh banuy letalpiyyot elef hammagen taluy alayw kol shilte haggibborim

Your neck is like the Tower of David, Built to hold weapons, Hung with a thousand shields— All the quivers of warriors.

shene shadayikh kishne ofarim te'ome tseviyyah haro'im bashoshannim

Your breasts are like two fawns, Twins of a gazelle, Browsing among the lilies.

ad sheyyafuakh hayyom venasu hatselalim elekh li el-har hammor ve'el-givat hallevonah

When the day blows gently And the shadows flee, I will betake me to the mount of myrrh, To the hill of frankincense.

kullakh yafah rayati umum en bakh

Every part of you is fair, my darling, There is no blemish in you.

itti millevanon kallah itti millevanon tavo'i tashuri merosh amanah merosh senir vekhermon mimme'onot arayot meharre nemerim

From Lebanon come with me; From Lebanon, my bride, with me! Trip down from Amana’s peak, From the peak of Senir and Hermon, From the dens of lions, From the hills of leopards.

libbavtini akhoti khallah libbavtini (vkhd) [be'akhat] me'enayikh be'akhad anaq mitsavveronayikh

You have captured my heart, My own, my bride, You have captured my heart With one [glance] of your eyes, With one coil of your necklace.

mah-yyafu dodayikh akhoti khallah mah-ttovu dodayikh miyyayin vereakh shemanayikh mikkol-besamim

How sweet is your love, My own, my bride! How much more delightful your love than wine, Your ointments more fragrant Than any spice!

nofet tittofenah siftotayikh kallah devash vekhalav takhat leshonekh vereakh salmotayikh kereakh levanon

Sweetness drops From your lips, O bride; Honey and milk Are under your tongue; And the scent of your robes Is like the scent of Lebanon.

gan na'ul akhoti khallah gal na'ul mayan khatum

A garden locked Is my own, my bride, A fountain locked, A sealed-up spring.

shelakhayikh pardes rimmonim im peri megadim kefarim im-neradim

Your limbs are an orchard of pomegranates And of all luscious fruits, Of henna and of nard—

nerd vekharkom qaneh veqinnamon im kol-atse levonah mor va'ahalot im kol-rashe vesamim

Nard and saffron, Fragrant reed and cinnamon, With all aromatic woods, Myrrh and aloes— All the choice perfumes.

mayan gannim be'er mayim khayyim venozelim min-levanon

[You are] a garden spring, A well of fresh water, A rill of Lebanon.

uri tsafon uvo'i teman hafikhi ganni yizzelu vesamayw yavo dodi leganno veyokhal peri megadayw

Awake, O north wind, Come, O south wind! Blow upon my garden, That its perfume may spread. Let my beloved come to his garden And enjoy its luscious fruits!