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Chapter 4
Solomon Admires His BrideThe Bridegroom
1
How beautiful [you are], my darling— how very beautiful! Your eyes are [like] doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats streaming down Mount Gilead.
𐤄𐤍𐤊 𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤓𐤏𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤄𐤍𐤊 𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤏𐤉𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤉𐤅𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤁𐤏𐤃 𐤋𐤑𐤌𐤕𐤊 𐤔𐤏𐤓𐤊 𐤊𐤏𐤃𐤓 𐤄𐤏𐤆𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤂𐤋𐤔𐤅 𐤌𐤄𐤓 𐤂𐤋𐤏𐤃
הִנָּ֨ךְ יָפָ֤ה רַעְיָתִי֙ הִנָּ֣ךְ יָפָ֔ה עֵינַ֣יִךְ יוֹנִ֔ים מִבַּ֖עַד לְצַמָּתֵ֑ךְ שַׂעְרֵךְ֙ כְּעֵ֣דֶר הָֽעִזִּ֔ים שֶׁגָּלְשׁ֖וּ מֵהַ֥ר גִּלְעָֽד׃ hin·nāḵ yā·p̄āh ra‘·yā·ṯî hin·nāḵ yā·p̄āh ‘ê·na·yiḵ yō·w·nîm mib·ba·‘aḏ lə·ṣam·mā·ṯêḵ śa‘·rêḵ kə·‘ê·ḏer hā·‘iz·zîm šeg·gā·lə·šū mê·har gil·‘āḏ — WLC · 1
2
Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin, and not one of them [is] lost.
𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤏𐤃𐤓 𐤄𐤒𐤑𐤅𐤁𐤅𐤕 𐤔𐤏𐤋𐤅 𐤌𐤍 𐤄𐤓𐤇𐤑𐤄 𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤌 𐤌𐤕𐤀𐤉𐤌𐤅𐤕 𐤀𐤉𐤍 𐤁𐤄𐤌 𐤅𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤄
שִׁנַּ֙יִךְ֙ כְּעֵ֣דֶר הַקְּצוּב֔וֹת שֶׁעָל֖וּ מִן־ הָרַחְצָ֑ה שֶׁכֻּלָּם֙ מַתְאִימ֔וֹת אֵ֥ין בָּהֶֽם׃ וְשַׁכֻּלָ֖ה šin·na·yiḵ kə·‘ê·ḏer haq·qə·ṣū·ḇō·wṯ še·‘ā·lū min- hā·raḥ·ṣāh šek·kul·lām maṯ·’î·mō·wṯ ’ên bā·hem wə·šak·ku·lāh — WLC · 2
3
Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon, and your mouth is lovely. Your brow behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.
𐤔𐤐𐤕𐤕𐤉𐤊 𐤄𐤔𐤍𐤉 𐤊𐤇𐤅𐤈 𐤅𐤌𐤃𐤁𐤓𐤉𐤊 𐤍𐤀𐤅𐤄 𐤓𐤒𐤕𐤊 𐤌𐤁𐤏𐤃 𐤋𐤑𐤌𐤕𐤊 𐤊𐤐𐤋𐤇 𐤄𐤓𐤌𐤅𐤍
שִׂפְתֹתַ֔יִךְ הַשָּׁנִי֙ כְּח֤וּט וּמִדְבָּרֵ֖יךְ נָאוֶ֑ה רַקָּתֵ֔ךְ מִבַּ֖עַד לְצַמָּתֵֽךְ׃ כְּפֶ֤לַח הָֽרִמּוֹן֙ śip̄·ṯō·ṯa·yiḵ haš·šā·nî kə·ḥūṭ ū·miḏ·bā·rêḵ nā·weh raq·qā·ṯêḵ mib·ba·‘aḏ lə·ṣam·mā·ṯêḵ kə·p̄e·laḥ hā·rim·mō·wn — WLC · 3
4
Your neck is like the tower of David, built with rows of stones; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.
𐤑𐤅𐤀𐤓𐤊 𐤊𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤋 𐤃𐤅𐤉𐤃 𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤉 𐤋𐤕𐤋𐤐𐤉𐤅𐤕 𐤏𐤋𐤉𐤅 𐤕𐤋𐤅𐤉 𐤀𐤋𐤐 𐤄𐤌𐤂𐤍 𐤊𐤋 𐤔𐤋𐤈𐤉 𐤄𐤂𐤁𐤅𐤓𐤉𐤌
צַוָּארֵ֔ךְ כְּמִגְדַּ֤ל דָּוִיד֙ בָּנ֖וּי לְתַלְפִּיּ֑וֹת עָלָ֔יו תָּל֣וּי אֶ֤לֶף הַמָּגֵן֙ כֹּ֖ל שִׁלְטֵ֥י הַגִּבּוֹרִֽים׃ ṣaw·wā·rêḵ kə·miḡ·dal dā·wîḏ bā·nui lə·ṯal·pî·yō·wṯ ‘ā·lāw tā·lui ’e·lep̄ ham·mā·ḡên kōl šil·ṭê hag·gib·bō·w·rîm — WLC · 4
5
Your breasts… are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle grazing among the lilies.
𐤔𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤔𐤍𐤉 𐤔𐤍𐤉 𐤏𐤐𐤓𐤉𐤌 𐤕𐤀𐤅𐤌𐤉 𐤑𐤁𐤉𐤄 𐤄𐤓𐤅𐤏𐤉𐤌 𐤁𐤔𐤅𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌
שָׁדַ֛יִךְ כִּשְׁנֵ֥י שְׁנֵ֥י עֳפָרִ֖ים תְּאוֹמֵ֣י צְבִיָּ֑ה הָרוֹעִ֖ים בַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּֽים׃ šā·ḏa·yiḵ kiš·nê šə·nê ‘o·p̄ā·rîm tə·’ō·w·mê ṣə·ḇî·yāh hā·rō·w·‘îm baš·šō·wō·šan·nîm — WLC · 5
6
Before the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will make my way to the mountain of myrrh… and to the hill of frankincense.
𐤏𐤃 𐤄𐤉𐤅𐤌 𐤔𐤉𐤐𐤅𐤇 𐤄𐤑𐤋𐤋𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤍𐤎𐤅 𐤀𐤋𐤊 𐤋𐤉 𐤀𐤋 𐤄𐤓 𐤄𐤌𐤅𐤓 𐤅𐤀𐤋 𐤂𐤁𐤏𐤕 𐤄𐤋𐤁𐤅𐤍𐤄
עַ֤ד הַיּ֔וֹם שֶׁיָּפ֙וּחַ֙ הַצְּלָלִ֑ים וְנָ֖סוּ אֵ֤לֶךְ לִי֙ אֶל־ הַ֣ר הַמּ֔וֹר וְאֶל־ גִּבְעַ֖ת הַלְּבוֹנָֽה׃ ‘aḏ hay·yō·wm še·yā·p̄ū·aḥ haṣ·ṣə·lā·lîm wə·nā·sū ’ê·leḵ lî ’el- har ham·mō·wr wə·’el- giḇ·‘aṯ hal·lə·ḇō·w·nāh — WLC · 6
7
You are altogether beautiful, my darling; in you [there is] no flaw.
𐤊𐤋𐤊 𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤓𐤏𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤁𐤊𐤎 𐤀𐤉𐤍 𐤅𐤌𐤅𐤌
כֻּלָּ֤ךְ יָפָה֙ רַעְיָתִ֔י בָּֽךְ׃ס אֵ֥ין וּמ֖וּם kul·lāḵ yā·p̄āh ra‘·yā·ṯî bāḵ ’ên ū·mūm — WLC · 7
8
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, [come] with me from Lebanon! Descend from the peak of Amana, from the summits of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards.
𐤕𐤁𐤅𐤀𐤉 𐤀𐤕𐤉 𐤌𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤀𐤕𐤉 𐤌𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍 𐤕𐤔𐤅𐤓𐤉 𐤌𐤓𐤀𐤔 𐤀𐤌𐤍𐤄 𐤌𐤓𐤀𐤔 𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤓 𐤅𐤇𐤓𐤌𐤅𐤍 𐤌𐤌𐤏𐤍𐤅𐤕 𐤀𐤓𐤉𐤅𐤕 𐤌𐤄𐤓𐤓𐤉 𐤍𐤌𐤓𐤉𐤌
תָּב֑וֹאִי אִתִּ֤י מִלְּבָנוֹן֙ כַּלָּ֔ה אִתִּ֖י מִלְּבָנ֣וֹן תָּשׁ֣וּרִי׀ מֵרֹ֣אשׁ אֲמָנָ֗ה מֵרֹ֤אשׁ שְׂנִיר֙ וְחֶרְמ֔וֹן מִמְּעֹנ֣וֹת אֲרָי֔וֹת מֵֽהַרְרֵ֖י נְמֵרִֽים׃ tā·ḇō·w·’î ’it·tî mil·lə·ḇā·nō·wn kal·lāh ’it·tî mil·lə·ḇā·nō·wn tā·šū·rî mê·rōš ’ă·mā·nāh mê·rōš śə·nîr wə·ḥer·mō·wn mim·mə·‘ō·nō·wṯ ’ă·rā·yō·wṯ mê·har·rê nə·mê·rîm — WLC · 8
9
You have captured my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your neck.
𐤋𐤁𐤁𐤕𐤍𐤉 𐤀𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤋𐤁𐤁𐤕𐤉𐤍𐤉 𐤁𐤀𐤇𐤃 𐤌𐤏𐤉𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤁𐤀𐤇𐤃 𐤏𐤍𐤒 𐤌𐤑𐤅𐤓𐤍𐤉𐤊
לִבַּבְתִּ֖נִי אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּ֑ה לִבַּבְתִּ֙ינִי֙ בְּאַחַד מֵעֵינַ֔יִךְ בְּאַחַ֥ד עֲנָ֖ק מִצַּוְּרֹנָֽיִךְ׃ lib·baḇ·ti·nî ’ă·ḥō·ṯî ḵal·lāh lib·baḇ·tî·nî bə·ʾa·ḥaḏ mê·‘ê·na·yiḵ bə·’a·ḥaḏ ‘ă·nāq miṣ·ṣaw·wə·rō·nā·yiḵ — WLC · 9
10
How delightful [is] your love, my sister, my bride! Your love is much better than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume than all spices.
𐤌𐤄 𐤉𐤐𐤅 𐤃𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤀𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤃𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤌𐤄 𐤈𐤁𐤅 𐤌𐤉𐤉𐤍 𐤅𐤓𐤉𐤇 𐤔𐤌𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤌𐤊𐤋 𐤁𐤔𐤌𐤉𐤌
מַה־ יָּפ֥וּ דֹדַ֖יִךְ אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּ֑ה דֹדַ֙יִךְ֙ מַה־ טֹּ֤בוּ מִיַּ֔יִן וְרֵ֥יחַ שְׁמָנַ֖יִךְ מִכָּל־ בְּשָׂמִֽים׃ mah- yā·p̄ū ḏō·ḏa·yiḵ ’ă·ḥō·ṯî ḵal·lāh ḏō·ḏa·yiḵ mah- ṭō·ḇū mî·ya·yin wə·rê·aḥ šə·mā·na·yiḵ mik·kāl bə·śā·mîm — WLC · 10
11
Your lips, my bride, drip sweetness like the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue, and the fragrance of your garments is like the aroma of Lebanon.
𐤔𐤐𐤕𐤅𐤕𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤕𐤈𐤐𐤍𐤄 𐤍𐤐𐤕 𐤃𐤁𐤔 𐤅𐤇𐤋𐤁 𐤕𐤇𐤕 𐤋𐤔𐤅𐤍𐤊 𐤅𐤓𐤉𐤇 𐤔𐤋𐤌𐤕𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤓𐤉𐤇 𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍𐤎
שִׂפְתוֹתַ֖יִךְ כַּלָּ֑ה תִּטֹּ֥פְנָה נֹ֛פֶת דְּבַ֤שׁ וְחָלָב֙ תַּ֣חַת לְשׁוֹנֵ֔ךְ וְרֵ֥יחַ שַׂלְמֹתַ֖יִךְ כְּרֵ֥יחַ לְבָנֽוֹן׃ס śip̄·ṯō·w·ṯa·yiḵ kal·lāh tiṭ·ṭō·p̄ə·nāh nō·p̄eṯ də·ḇaš wə·ḥā·lāḇ ta·ḥaṯ lə·šō·w·nêḵ wə·rê·aḥ śal·mō·ṯa·yiḵ kə·rê·aḥ lə·ḇā·nō·wn — WLC · 11
12
My sister, my bride, [you are] a garden locked up, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed.
𐤀𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤂𐤍 𐤍𐤏𐤅𐤋 𐤂𐤋 𐤍𐤏𐤅𐤋 𐤌𐤏𐤉𐤍 𐤇𐤕𐤅𐤌
אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּ֑ה גַּ֥ן׀ נָע֖וּל גַּ֥ל נָע֖וּל מַעְיָ֥ן חָתֽוּם׃ ’ă·ḥō·ṯî ḵal·lāh gan nā·‘ūl gal nā·‘ūl ma‘·yān ḥā·ṯūm — WLC · 12
13
Your branches [are] an orchard of pomegranates with the choicest of fruits, with henna [and] nard,
𐤔𐤋𐤇𐤉𐤊 𐤐𐤓𐤃𐤎 𐤓𐤌𐤅𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤏𐤌 𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤉𐤌 𐤐𐤓𐤉 𐤊𐤐𐤓𐤉𐤌 𐤏𐤌 𐤍𐤓𐤃𐤉𐤌
שְׁלָחַ֙יִךְ֙ פַּרְדֵּ֣ס רִמּוֹנִ֔ים עִ֖ם מְגָדִ֑ים פְּרִ֣י כְּפָרִ֖ים עִם־ נְרָדִֽים׃ šə·lā·ḥa·yiḵ par·dês rim·mō·w·nîm ‘im mə·ḡā·ḏîm pə·rî kə·p̄ā·rîm ‘im- nə·rā·ḏîm — WLC · 13
14
with nard and saffron, [with] calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of frankincense tree, with myrrh and aloes, with all the finest spices.
𐤍𐤓𐤃 𐤅𐤊𐤓𐤊𐤌 𐤒𐤍𐤄 𐤅𐤒𐤍𐤌𐤅𐤍 𐤏𐤌 𐤊𐤋 𐤋𐤁𐤅𐤍𐤄 𐤏𐤑𐤉 𐤌𐤓 𐤅𐤀𐤄𐤋𐤅𐤕 𐤏𐤌 𐤊𐤋 𐤓𐤀𐤔𐤉 𐤁𐤔𐤌𐤉𐤌
נֵ֣רְדְּ׀ וְכַרְכֹּ֗ם קָנֶה֙ וְקִנָּמ֔וֹן עִ֖ם כָּל־ לְבוֹנָ֑ה עֲצֵ֣י מֹ֚ר וַאֲהָל֔וֹת עִ֖ם כָּל־ רָאשֵׁ֥י בְשָׂמִֽים׃ nê·rəd wə·ḵar·kōm qā·neh wə·qin·nā·mō·wn ‘im kāl- lə·ḇō·w·nāh ‘ă·ṣê mōr wa·’ă·hā·lō·wṯ ‘im kāl- rā·šê ḇə·śā·mîm — WLC · 14
15
You are a garden spring, a well of fresh water flowing down from Lebanon.
𐤂𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤏𐤉𐤍 𐤁𐤀𐤓 𐤇𐤉𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤍𐤆𐤋𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤍 𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍
גַּנִּ֔ים מַעְיַ֣ן בְּאֵ֖ר חַיִּ֑ים מַ֣יִם וְנֹזְלִ֖ים מִן־ לְבָנֽוֹן׃ gan·nîm ma‘·yan bə·’êr ḥay·yîm ma·yim wə·nō·zə·lîm min- lə·ḇā·nō·wn — WLC · 15
The Bride
16
Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind. Breathe on my garden and spread the fragrance of its spices. Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choicest fruits.
𐤏𐤅𐤓𐤉 𐤑𐤐𐤅𐤍 𐤅𐤁𐤅𐤀𐤉 𐤕𐤉𐤌𐤍 𐤄𐤐𐤉𐤇𐤉 𐤂𐤍𐤉 𐤉𐤆𐤋𐤅 𐤁𐤔𐤌𐤉𐤅 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤉𐤁𐤀 𐤋𐤂𐤍𐤅 𐤅𐤉𐤀𐤊𐤋 𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤉𐤅 𐤐𐤓𐤉
ע֤וּרִי צָפוֹן֙ וּב֣וֹאִי תֵימָ֔ן הָפִ֥יחִי גַנִּ֖י יִזְּל֣וּ בְשָׂמָ֑יו דוֹדִי֙ יָבֹ֤א לְגַנּ֔וֹ וְיֹאכַ֖ל מְגָדָֽיו׃ פְּרִ֥י ‘ū·rî ṣā·p̄ō·wn ū·ḇō·w·’î ṯê·mān hā·p̄î·ḥî ḡan·nî yiz·zə·lū ḇə·śā·māw ḏō·w·ḏî yā·ḇō lə·ḡan·nōw wə·yō·ḵal mə·ḡā·ḏāw pə·rî — WLC · 16