Immerse: Poets Full Volume - Flipbook - Page 203
6:3-13
S on g o f S on g s
I am my lover’s, and my lover is mine.
He browses among the lilies.
You are beautiful, my darling,
like the lovely city of Tirzah.
Yes, as beautiful as Jerusalem,
as majestic as an army with billowing banners.
Turn your eyes away,
for they overpower me.
Your hair falls in waves,
like a flock of goats winding down the slopes
of Gilead.
Your teeth are as white as sheep
that are freshly washed.
Your smile is flawless,
each tooth matched with its twin.
Your cheeks are like rosy pomegranates
behind your veil.
Even among sixty queens
and eighty concubines
and countless young women,
I would still choose my dove, my perfect one—
the favorite of her mother,
dearly loved by the one who bore her.
The young women see her and praise her;
even queens and royal concubines sing her praises:
“Who is this, arising like the dawn,
as fair as the moon,
as bright as the sun,
as majestic as an army with billowing banners?”
I went down to the grove of walnut trees
and out to the valley to see the new spring growth,
to see whether the grapevines had budded
or the pomegranates were in bloom.
Before I realized it,
my strong desires had taken me to the chariot of
a noble man.
Return, return to us, O maid of Shulam.
Come back, come back, that we may see you again.
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