Song of Songs

Song of Songs

The scroll has always stirred layers of interpretation:

Literal: A celebration of marital love

Allegorical (early Hebrew tradition): YHWH’s love for Israel

Mystical: The soul’s longing for divine presence

Messianic: The love of Messiah for His bride

Rather than choosing one, this restoration honors all these levels at once, preserving the ambiguity and beauty of the original.

There are no introductions, no chapter headings, and no clear speaker labels in the original. The text flows as a song—sometimes she speaks, sometimes he responds, and sometimes the chorus of daughters observes. Our version preserves that mystery and rhythm.

YHWH’s name does not appear in the original, but the Song is saturated with sacred echoes

We preserve its Hebrew metaphor (e.g. “mountain of myrrh”, “sealed fountain”, “garden enclosed”)

No modern moralizing or censorship—it speaks as it was meant to: unashamed, poetic, divine

“Set me as a seal upon your heart…

for love is as strong as death,

its flame is the flame of YAH.” (8:6)

———

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—

for your love is better than wine.

Your oils have a pleasing fragrance;

your name is poured-out oil—

therefore the maidens love you.

Draw me after you—let us run!

The king has brought me into his chambers.

We will exult and rejoice in you;

we will extol your love more than wine—

rightly do they love you.

I am dark but lovely,

O daughters of Jerusalem,

like the tents of Qedar,

like the curtains of Solomon.

Do not stare at me because I am dark,

because the sun has gazed upon me.

My mother’s sons were angry with me;

they made me keeper of the vineyards—

but my own vineyard I have not kept.

Tell me, you whom my soul loves,

where you pasture your flock,

where you make it lie down at noon.

Why should I be like one who veils herself

beside the flocks of your companions?

If you do not know, O fairest among women,

follow the tracks of the sheep

and pasture your young goats

beside the tents of the shepherds.

I compare you, my love,

to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.

Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments,

your neck with strings of jewels.

We will make you ornaments of gold,

studded with silver.

While the king was on his couch,

my nard gave forth its fragrance.

My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh

that lies between my breasts.

My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms

in the vineyards of En-gedi.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love;

behold, you are beautiful;

your eyes are doves.

Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved,

truly delightful.

Our couch is verdant;

the beams of our house are cedar,

our rafters are cypress.

———

I am a rose of Sharon,

a lily of the valleys.

As a lily among thorns,

so is my love among the daughters.

As an apple tree among the trees of the forest,

so is my beloved among the sons.

In his shade I delighted to sit,

and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the house of wine,

and his banner over me was love.

Sustain me with raisin cakes,

refresh me with apples,

for I am sick with love.

His left hand is under my head,

and his right hand embraces me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

by the gazelles or the does of the field:

Do not stir up or awaken love

until it pleases.

The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes,

leaping over the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.

Behold, there he stands behind our wall,

gazing through the windows,

looking through the lattice.

My beloved speaks and says to me:

“Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

and come away,

for behold, the winter is past;

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the dove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree ripens its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

and come away.”

O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

in the hiding places of the cliff,

let me see your face,

let me hear your voice,

for your voice is sweet,

and your face is lovely.

Catch for us the foxes,

the little foxes that spoil the vineyards—

for our vineyards are in blossom.

My beloved is mine, and I am his;

he grazes among the lilies.

Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,

turn, my beloved,

be like a gazelle

or a young stag on the clefted mountains.

———

Upon my bed at night I sought him

whom my soul loves;

I sought him but found him not.

I said, “I will rise now and go about the city,

through the streets and in the squares;

I will seek him whom my soul loves.”

I sought him, but found him not.

The watchmen found me

as they went about in the city.

“Have you seen him whom my soul loves?”

Scarcely had I passed them

when I found him whom my soul loves.

I held him, and would not let him go

until I had brought him into my mother’s house,

into the chamber of her who conceived me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

by the gazelles or by the does of the field,

do not stir up or awaken love

until it pleases.

What is this coming up from the wilderness

like columns of smoke,

perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,

with all the fragrant powders of the merchant?

Behold, it is the litter of Solomon!

Around it are sixty mighty men,

some of the mighty of Israel,

all of them wearing swords

and expert in war,

each with his sword at his thigh,

against fear in the night.

King Solomon made himself a palanquin

from the wood of Lebanon.

He made its posts of silver,

its back of gold,

its seat of purple;

its interior was inlaid with love

by the daughters of Jerusalem.

Go out, O daughters of Zion,

and look upon King Solomon,

with the crown with which his mother crowned him

on the day of his wedding,

on the day of the joy of his heart.

———

Behold, you are beautiful, my love;

behold, you are beautiful.

Your eyes are doves behind your veil.

Your hair is like a flock of goats

leaping down the slopes of Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes

that have come up from the washing,

all of them bearing twins,

and not one among them has lost her young.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread,

and your mouth is lovely.

Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate

behind your veil.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

built in rows of stone;

on it hang a thousand shields,

all of them shields of warriors.

Your two breasts are like two fawns,

twins of a gazelle,

that graze among the lilies.

Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,

I will go away to the mountain of myrrh

and the hill of frankincense.

You are altogether beautiful, my love;

there is no blemish in you.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride;

come with me from Lebanon.

Descend from the summit of Amana,

from the peak of Senir and Hermon,

from the dens of lions,

from the mountains of leopards.

You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,

you have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes,

with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!

How much better is your love than wine,

and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!

Your lips drip nectar, my bride;

honey and milk are under your tongue;

the fragrance of your garments

is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

A garden enclosed is my sister, my bride,

a spring locked, a fountain sealed.

Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates

with all choicest fruits,

henna with nard,

nard and saffron,

calamus and cinnamon,

with all trees of frankincense,

myrrh and aloes,

with all choice spices—

a garden fountain, a well of living water,

flowing streams from Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind,

and come, O south wind!

Blow upon my garden,

let its spices flow.

Let my beloved come to his garden,

and eat its choicest fruits.

———

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, friends, drink,

and be drunk with love!

I slept, but my heart was awake.

A sound! My beloved is knocking.

“Open to me, my sister, my love,

my dove, my perfect one,

for my head is wet with dew,

my locks with the drops of the night.”

I had put off my garment;

how could I put it on again?

I had washed my feet;

how could I soil them?

My beloved put his hand to the latch,

and my heart yearned for him.

I arose to open to my beloved,

and my hands dripped with myrrh,

my fingers with liquid myrrh,

on the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my beloved,

but my beloved had turned and gone.

My soul failed when he spoke.

I sought him, but found him not;

I called him, but he gave no answer.

The watchmen found me

as they went about in the city;

they beat me, they bruised me,

they took away my veil—

those watchmen of the walls.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

if you find my beloved,

that you tell him

I am faint with love.

What is your beloved more than another beloved,

O most beautiful among women?

What is your beloved more than another beloved,

that you thus adjure us?

———

My beloved is radiant and ruddy,

distinguished among ten thousand.

His head is the finest gold;

his locks are wavy,

black as a raven.

His eyes are like doves

beside streams of water,

bathed in milk,

set like jewels.

His cheeks are like beds of spices,

mounds of sweet-smelling herbs.

His lips are lilies,

dripping liquid myrrh.

His arms are rods of gold,

set with jewels.

His body is polished ivory,

adorned with sapphires.

His legs are pillars of marble,

set on bases of fine gold.

His appearance is like Lebanon,

choice as the cedars.

His mouth is most sweet,

and he is altogether desirable.

This is my beloved and this is my friend,

O daughters of Jerusalem.

Where has your beloved gone,

O most beautiful among women?

Where has your beloved turned,

that we may seek him with you?

My beloved has gone down to his garden,

to the beds of spices,

to graze in the gardens

and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine;

he grazes among the lilies.

You are beautiful as Tirzah, my love,

lovely as Jerusalem,

awesome as an army with banners.

Turn your eyes away from me,

for they overwhelm me.

Your hair is like a flock of goats

leaping down the slopes of Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes

that have come up from the washing,

all of them bear twins,

not one among them is missing.

Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate

behind your veil.

There are sixty queens and eighty concubines,

and maidens without number.

My dove, my perfect one, is the only one,

the darling of her mother,

pure to her who bore her.

The daughters saw her and called her blessed;

the queens and concubines also, and they praised her.

“Who is this who looks like the dawn,

beautiful as the moon,

bright as the sun,

awesome as an army with banners?”

———

How beautiful are your feet in sandals,

O noble daughter!

Your rounded thighs are like jewels,

the work of a master’s hand.

Your navel is a rounded bowl

that never lacks mixed wine.

Your belly is a heap of wheat,

encircled with lilies.

Your two breasts are like two fawns,

twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is like an ivory tower.

Your eyes are pools in Heshbon,

by the gate of Bath-rabbim.

Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon,

which looks toward Damascus.

Your head crowns you like Carmel,

and the hair of your head is like purple;

a king is held captive in its tresses.

How beautiful and how pleasant you are,

O love, with all your delights!

Your stature is like a palm tree,

and your breasts like its clusters.

I said, “I will climb the palm tree

and lay hold of its fruit.”

Oh, may your breasts be like clusters of the vine,

and the scent of your breath like apples,

and your mouth like the best wine—

—that goes down smoothly for my beloved,

gliding over lips and teeth.

I am my beloved’s,

and his desire is toward me.

Come, my beloved,

let us go out into the fields

and lodge in the villages;

let us go out early to the vineyards

and see whether the vines have budded,

whether the grape blossoms have opened,

and the pomegranates are in bloom.

There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes give forth fragrance,

and at our doors are all choice fruits,

new as well as old,

which I have laid up for you, O my beloved.

———

Oh that you were like a brother to me,

who nursed at my mother’s breasts!

If I found you outside, I would kiss you,

and none would despise me.

I would lead you and bring you

into the house of my mother—

she who taught me.

I would give you spiced wine to drink,

the juice of my pomegranates.

His left hand is under my head,

and his right hand embraces me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

do not stir up or awaken love

until it pleases.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness,

leaning on her beloved?

Under the apple tree I awakened you.

There your mother was in labor with you;

there she who bore you was in labor.

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm,

for love is as strong as death,

passion as fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

the very flame of YAH.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of his house,

he would be utterly despised.

We have a little sister,

and she has no breasts.

What shall we do for our sister

on the day when she is spoken for?

If she is a wall,

we will build on her a battlement of silver;

but if she is a door,

we will enclose her with boards of cedar.

I was a wall,

and my breasts were like towers;

then I was in his eyes

as one who finds peace.

Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon;

he let out the vineyard to keepers;

each one was to bring for its fruit a thousand silver pieces.

My vineyard, which is mine, is before me.

You, O Solomon, may have the thousand,

and the keepers of the fruit two hundred.

You who dwell in the gardens,

companions are listening for your voice;

let me hear it.

Make haste, my beloved,

and be like a gazelle

or a young stag

on the mountains of spices.