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Chapter 5
The Bride and Her BelovedThe Bridegroom
1
I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, [and] drink; drink freely, O beloved.
𐤁𐤀𐤕𐤉 𐤋𐤂𐤍𐤉 𐤀𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤊𐤋𐤄 𐤀𐤓𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤌𐤅𐤓𐤉 𐤏𐤌 𐤁𐤔𐤌𐤉 𐤀𐤊𐤋𐤕𐤉 𐤉𐤏𐤓𐤉 𐤏𐤌 𐤃𐤁𐤔𐤉 𐤔𐤕𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤉𐤉𐤍𐤉 𐤏𐤌 𐤇𐤋𐤁𐤉 𐤀𐤊𐤋𐤅 𐤓𐤏𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤕𐤅 𐤅𐤔𐤊𐤓𐤅 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉𐤌𐤎
בָּ֣אתִי לְגַנִּי֮ אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּה֒ אָרִ֤יתִי מוֹרִי֙ עִם־ בְּשָׂמִ֔י אָכַ֤לְתִּי יַעְרִי֙ עִם־ דִּבְשִׁ֔י שָׁתִ֥יתִי יֵינִ֖י עִם־ חֲלָבִ֑י אִכְל֣וּ רֵעִ֔ים שְׁת֥וּ וְשִׁכְר֖וּ דּוֹדִֽים׃ס bā·ṯî lə·ḡan·nî ’ă·ḥō·ṯî ḵal·lāh ’ā·rî·ṯî mō·w·rî ‘im- bə·śā·mî ’ā·ḵal·tî ya‘·rî ‘im- diḇ·šî šā·ṯî·ṯî yê·nî ‘im- ḥă·lā·ḇî ’iḵ·lū rê·‘îm šə·ṯū wə·šiḵ·rū dō·w·ḏîm — WLC · 1
The Bride
2
I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤉𐤔𐤍𐤄 𐤅𐤋𐤁𐤉 𐤏𐤓 𐤒𐤅𐤋 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤃𐤅𐤐𐤒 𐤐𐤕𐤇𐤉 𐤋𐤉 𐤀𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤓𐤏𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤉𐤅𐤍𐤕𐤉 𐤕𐤌𐤕𐤉 𐤔𐤓𐤀𐤔𐤉 𐤍𐤌𐤋𐤀 𐤈𐤋 𐤒𐤅𐤑𐤅𐤕𐤉 𐤓𐤎𐤉𐤎𐤉 𐤋𐤉𐤋𐤄
אֲנִ֥י יְשֵׁנָ֖ה וְלִבִּ֣י עֵ֑ר ק֣וֹל׀ דּוֹדִ֣י דוֹפֵ֗ק פִּתְחִי־ לִ֞י אֲחֹתִ֤י רַעְיָתִי֙ יוֹנָתִ֣י תַמָּתִ֔י שֶׁרֹּאשִׁי֙ נִמְלָא־ טָ֔ל קְוֻּצּוֹתַ֖י רְסִ֥יסֵי לָֽיְלָה׃ ’ă·nî yə·šê·nāh wə·lib·bî ‘êr qō·wl dō·w·ḏî ḏō·w·p̄êq piṯ·ḥî- lî ’ă·ḥō·ṯî ra‘·yā·ṯî yō·w·nā·ṯî ṯam·mā·ṯî šer·rō·šî nim·lā- ṭāl qəw·wuṣ·ṣō·ṯay rə·sî·sê lā·yə·lāh — WLC · 2
3
I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
𐤐𐤔𐤈𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤕 𐤊𐤕𐤍𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤉𐤊𐤊𐤄 𐤀𐤋𐤁𐤔𐤍𐤄 𐤓𐤇𐤑𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤕 𐤓𐤂𐤋𐤉 𐤀𐤉𐤊𐤊𐤄 𐤀𐤈𐤍𐤐𐤌
פָּשַׁ֙טְתִּי֙ אֶת־ כֻּתָּנְתִּ֔י אֵיכָ֖כָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁ֑נָּה רָחַ֥צְתִּי אֶת־ רַגְלַ֖י אֵיכָ֥כָה אֲטַנְּפֵֽם׃ pā·šaṭ·tî ’eṯ- kut·tā·nə·tî ’ê·ḵā·ḵāh ’el·bā·šen·nāh rā·ḥaṣ·tî ’eṯ- raḡ·lay ’ê·ḵā·ḵāh ’ă·ṭan·nə·p̄êm — WLC · 3
4
My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded for him.
𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤔𐤋𐤇 𐤉𐤃𐤅 𐤌𐤍 𐤄𐤇𐤓 𐤅𐤌𐤏𐤉 𐤄𐤌𐤅 𐤏𐤋𐤉𐤅
דּוֹדִ֗י שָׁלַ֤ח יָדוֹ֙ מִן־ הַחֹ֔ר וּמֵעַ֖י הָמ֥וּ עָלָֽיו׃ dō·w·ḏî šā·laḥ yā·ḏōw min- ha·ḥōr ū·mê·‘ay hā·mū ‘ā·lāw — WLC · 4
5
I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.
𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤒𐤌𐤕𐤉 𐤋𐤐𐤕𐤇 𐤋𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤅𐤉𐤃𐤉 𐤍𐤈𐤐𐤅 𐤌𐤅𐤓 𐤅𐤀𐤑𐤁𐤏𐤕𐤉 𐤏𐤁𐤓 𐤌𐤅𐤓 𐤏𐤋 𐤊𐤐𐤅𐤕 𐤄𐤌𐤍𐤏𐤅𐤋
אֲנִ֖י קַ֥מְתִּֽי לִפְתֹּ֣חַ לְדוֹדִ֑י וְיָדַ֣י נָֽטְפוּ־ מ֗וֹר וְאֶצְבְּעֹתַי֙ עֹבֵ֔ר מ֣וֹר עַ֖ל כַּפּ֥וֹת הַמַּנְעֽוּל׃ ’ă·nî qam·tî lip̄·tō·aḥ lə·ḏō·w·ḏî wə·yā·ḏay nā·ṭə·p̄ū- mō·wr wə·’eṣ·bə·‘ō·ṯay ‘ō·ḇêr mō·wr ‘al kap·pō·wṯ ham·man·‘ūl — WLC · 5
6
I opened for my beloved, but [he] had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him but did not find him. I called, but he did not answer.
𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤐𐤕𐤇𐤕𐤉 𐤋𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤅𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤇𐤌𐤒 𐤏𐤁𐤓 𐤍𐤐𐤔𐤉 𐤉𐤑𐤀𐤄 𐤁𐤃𐤁𐤓𐤅 𐤁𐤒𐤔𐤕𐤉𐤄𐤅 𐤅𐤋𐤀 𐤌𐤑𐤀𐤕𐤉𐤄𐤅 𐤒𐤓𐤀𐤕𐤉𐤅 𐤅𐤋𐤀 𐤏𐤍𐤍𐤉
אֲנִי֙ פָּתַ֤חְתִּֽי לְדוֹדִ֔י וְדוֹדִ֖י חָמַ֣ק עָבָ֑ר נַפְשִׁי֙ יָֽצְאָ֣ה בְדַבְּר֔וֹ בִּקַּשְׁתִּ֙יהוּ֙ וְלֹ֣א מְצָאתִ֔יהוּ קְרָאתִ֖יו וְלֹ֥א עָנָֽנִי׃ ’ă·nî pā·ṯaḥ·tî lə·ḏō·w·ḏî wə·ḏō·w·ḏî ḥā·maq ‘ā·ḇār nap̄·šî yā·ṣə·’āh ḇə·ḏab·bə·rōw biq·qaš·tî·hū wə·lō mə·ṣā·ṯî·hū qə·rā·ṯîw wə·lō ‘ā·nā·nî — WLC · 6
7
I encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city. They beat me and bruised me; they took away my cloak…, those guardians of the walls.
𐤌𐤑𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤄𐤔𐤌𐤓𐤉𐤌 𐤄𐤎𐤁𐤁𐤉𐤌 𐤁𐤏𐤉𐤓 𐤄𐤊𐤅𐤍𐤉 𐤐𐤑𐤏𐤅𐤍𐤉 𐤍𐤔𐤀𐤅 𐤀𐤕 𐤓𐤃𐤉𐤃𐤉 𐤌𐤏𐤋𐤉 𐤔𐤌𐤓𐤉 𐤄𐤇𐤌𐤅𐤕
מְצָאֻ֧נִי הַשֹּׁמְרִ֛ים הַסֹּבְבִ֥ים בָּעִ֖יר הִכּ֣וּנִי פְצָע֑וּנִי נָשְׂא֤וּ אֶת־ רְדִידִי֙ מֵֽעָלַ֔י שֹׁמְרֵ֖י הַחֹמֽוֹת׃ mə·ṣā·’u·nî haš·šō·mə·rîm has·sō·ḇə·ḇîm bā·‘îr hik·kū·nî p̄ə·ṣā·‘ū·nî nā·śə·’ū ’eṯ- rə·ḏî·ḏî mê·‘ā·lay šō·mə·rê ha·ḥō·mō·wṯ — WLC · 7
8
O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved,… tell him I [am] sick with love.
𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤕 𐤉𐤓𐤅𐤔𐤋𐤌 𐤄𐤔𐤁𐤏𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤕𐤊𐤌 𐤀𐤌 𐤕𐤌𐤑𐤀𐤅 𐤀𐤕 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤌𐤄 𐤕𐤂𐤉𐤃𐤅 𐤋𐤅 𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤔𐤇𐤅𐤋𐤕 𐤀𐤄𐤁𐤄
בְּנ֣וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָ֑ם הִשְׁבַּ֥עְתִּי אֶתְכֶ֖ם אִֽם־ תִּמְצְאוּ֙ אֶת־ דּוֹדִ֔י מַה־ תַּגִּ֣ידוּ ל֔וֹ אָֽנִי׃ שֶׁחוֹלַ֥ת אַהֲבָ֖ה bə·nō·wṯ yə·rū·šā·lim hiš·ba‘·tî ’eṯ·ḵem ’im- tim·ṣə·’ū ’eṯ- dō·w·ḏî mah- tag·gî·ḏū lōw ’ā·nî še·ḥō·w·laṯ ’a·hă·ḇāh — WLC · 8
The Friends
9
How [is] your beloved better than [others], O most beautiful among women? How [is] your beloved better than another, that you charge us so?
𐤌𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤊 𐤌𐤃𐤅𐤃 𐤄𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤁𐤍𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤊 𐤌𐤃𐤅𐤃 𐤔𐤊𐤊𐤄 𐤄𐤔𐤁𐤏𐤕𐤍𐤅
מַה־ דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד הַיָּפָ֖ה בַּנָּשִׁ֑ים מַה־ דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד שֶׁכָּ֖כָה הִשְׁבַּעְתָּֽנוּ׃ mah- dō·w·ḏêḵ mid·dō·wḏ hay·yā·p̄āh ban·nā·šîm mah- dō·w·ḏêḵ mid·dō·wḏ šek·kā·ḵāh hiš·ba‘·tā·nū — WLC · 9
The Bride
10
My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤑𐤇 𐤅𐤀𐤃𐤅𐤌 𐤃𐤂𐤅𐤋 𐤌𐤓𐤁𐤁𐤄
דּוֹדִ֥י צַח֙ וְאָד֔וֹם דָּג֖וּל מֵרְבָבָֽה׃ dō·w·ḏî ṣaḥ wə·’ā·ḏō·wm dā·ḡūl mê·rə·ḇā·ḇāh — WLC · 10
11
His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
𐤓𐤀𐤔𐤅 𐤐𐤆 𐤊𐤕𐤌 𐤒𐤅𐤑𐤅𐤕𐤉𐤅 𐤕𐤋𐤕𐤋𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤇𐤓𐤅𐤕 𐤊𐤏𐤅𐤓𐤁
רֹאשׁ֖וֹ פָּ֑ז כֶּ֣תֶם קְוּצּוֹתָיו֙ תַּלְתַּלִּ֔ים שְׁחֹר֖וֹת כָּעוֹרֵֽב׃ rō·šōw pāz ke·ṯem qəw·wṣ·ṣō·ṯå̄w tal·tal·lîm šə·ḥō·rō·wṯ kā·‘ō·w·rêḇ — WLC · 11
12
His eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk [and] mounted like jewels.
𐤏𐤉𐤍𐤉𐤅 𐤊𐤉𐤅𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤏𐤋 𐤀𐤐𐤉𐤒𐤉 𐤌𐤉𐤌 𐤓𐤇𐤑𐤅𐤕 𐤁𐤇𐤋𐤁 𐤉𐤔𐤁𐤅𐤕 𐤏𐤋 𐤌𐤋𐤀𐤕
עֵינָ֕יו כְּיוֹנִ֖ים עַל־ אֲפִ֣יקֵי מָ֑יִם רֹֽחֲצוֹת֙ בֶּֽחָלָ֔ב יֹשְׁב֖וֹת עַל־ מִלֵּֽאת׃ ‘ê·nāw kə·yō·w·nîm ‘al- ’ă·p̄î·qê mā·yim rō·ḥă·ṣō·wṯ be·ḥā·lāḇ yō·šə·ḇō·wṯ ‘al- mil·lêṯ — WLC · 12
13
His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.
𐤋𐤇𐤉𐤅 𐤊𐤏𐤓𐤅𐤂𐤕 𐤄𐤁𐤔𐤌 𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤋𐤅𐤕 𐤌𐤓𐤒𐤇𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤐𐤕𐤅𐤕𐤉𐤅 𐤔𐤅𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤍𐤈𐤐𐤅𐤕 𐤏𐤁𐤓 𐤌𐤅𐤓
לְחָיָו֙ כַּעֲרוּגַ֣ת הַבֹּ֔שֶׂם מִגְדְּל֖וֹת מֶרְקָחִ֑ים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו֙ שֽׁוֹשַׁנִּ֔ים נֹטְפ֖וֹת עֹבֵֽר׃ מ֥וֹר lə·ḥā·yāw ka·‘ă·rū·ḡaṯ hab·bō·śem miḡ·də·lō·wṯ mer·qā·ḥîm śip̄·ṯō·w·ṯāw šō·wō·šan·nîm nō·ṭə·p̄ō·wṯ ‘ō·ḇêr mō·wr — WLC · 13
14
His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is polished ivory bedecked with sapphires.
𐤉𐤃𐤉𐤅 𐤂𐤋𐤉𐤋𐤉 𐤆𐤄𐤁 𐤌𐤌𐤋𐤀𐤉𐤌 𐤁𐤕𐤓𐤔𐤉𐤔 𐤌𐤏𐤉𐤅 𐤏𐤔𐤕 𐤔𐤍 𐤌𐤏𐤋𐤐𐤕 𐤎𐤐𐤉𐤓𐤉𐤌
יָדָיו֙ גְּלִילֵ֣י זָהָ֔ב מְמֻלָּאִ֖ים בַּתַּרְשִׁ֑ישׁ מֵעָיו֙ עֶ֣שֶׁת שֵׁ֔ן מְעֻלֶּ֖פֶת סַפִּירִֽים׃ yā·ḏāw gə·lî·lê zā·hāḇ mə·mul·lā·’îm bat·tar·šîš mê·‘āw ‘e·šeṯ šên mə·‘ul·le·p̄eṯ sap·pî·rîm — WLC · 14
15
His legs [are] pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic as the cedars.
𐤔𐤅𐤒𐤉𐤅 𐤏𐤌𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤔𐤔 𐤌𐤉𐤎𐤃𐤉𐤌 𐤏𐤋 𐤀𐤃𐤍𐤉 𐤐𐤆 𐤌𐤓𐤀𐤄𐤅 𐤊𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍 𐤁𐤇𐤅𐤓 𐤊𐤀𐤓𐤆𐤉𐤌
שׁוֹקָיו֙ עַמּ֣וּדֵי שֵׁ֔שׁ מְיֻסָּדִ֖ים עַל־ אַדְנֵי־ פָ֑ז מַרְאֵ֙הוּ֙ כַּלְּבָנ֔וֹן בָּח֖וּר כָּאֲרָזִֽים׃ šō·w·qāw ‘am·mū·ḏê šêš mə·yus·sā·ḏîm ‘al- ’aḏ·nê- p̄āz mar·’ê·hū kal·lə·ḇā·nō·wn bā·ḥūr kā·’ă·rā·zîm — WLC · 15
16
His mouth [is] most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This [is] my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
𐤇𐤊𐤅 𐤌𐤌𐤕𐤒𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤊𐤋𐤅 𐤌𐤇𐤌𐤃𐤉𐤌 𐤆𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤅𐤆𐤄 𐤓𐤏𐤉 𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤕 𐤉𐤓𐤅𐤔𐤋𐤌
חִכּוֹ֙ מַֽמְתַקִּ֔ים וְכֻלּ֖וֹ מַחֲמַדִּ֑ים זֶ֤ה דוֹדִי֙ וְזֶ֣ה רֵעִ֔י בְּנ֖וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָֽם׃ ḥik·kōw mam·ṯaq·qîm wə·ḵul·lōw ma·ḥă·mad·dīm zeh ḏō·w·ḏî wə·zeh rê·‘î bə·nō·wṯ yə·rū·šā·lim — WLC · 16