This translation is An American Translation by a group of scholars under
the editorship of J.M. Powis Smith. Published by The University of Chicago
Press, Chicago, Illinois and The Cambridge University Press, London,
Song of Songs, Translated by Theophile J. Meek
THE CHORUS TO THE MAIDEN, 6:1
My beloved has gone down to his garden,
to the beds of spices,
To a pasture his flock in the gardens,
and gather hyacinths.
I belong to my beloved, and my beloved to me,
who pastures his flock among the hyacinths.
THE YOUTH TO THE MAIDEN, 6:4-10
You are beautiful as Tirzah, my love,
as comely as Jerusalem,
as August as the most distinguished.
Turn your eyes away from me,
for they dazzle me,
Your hair is like a flock of goats,
screaming down from Gilead.
Your teeth are a flock of ewes,
that have come up from the washing,
All of which bear twins,
and none of which loses its youing.
Your temple is like a slice of pomegranate
behind your veil.
Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines,
and the maidens are numberless.
The only one is she,
my dove, my perfect one;
She is the only one of her mother;
and the darling of her who bore her.
The maidens look upon her and bless her,
the queens and concubines praise her:
'Who is she that breaks forth like the dawn,
as beautiful as the moon,
As bright as the sun,
as August as the most distinguished?
THE MAIDEN, 6: 11,12
I went down to the nut garden,
to look at the verdure of the valley,
To see whether the grapevine had budded,
whether the pomegranates had bloomed.
Before I knew it, my fancy set me
in the chariot of my ardent lover.
THE CHORUS TO THE MAIDEN
Turn, turn, O Shulamite;
turn, turn, that we may gaze on you.
Ah, gaze on the Shulammite,
in the Mahanaim dance,