← 5 | ← Song of Solomon | 7 →
Chapter 6
Together in the GardenThe Friends
1
Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Which way has he turned? We will seek him with you.
𐤀𐤍𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤊 𐤄𐤋𐤊 𐤄𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤁𐤍𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤀𐤍𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤊 𐤐𐤍𐤄 𐤅𐤍𐤁𐤒𐤔𐤍𐤅 𐤏𐤌𐤊
אָ֚נָה דּוֹדֵ֔ךְ הָלַ֣ךְ הַיָּפָ֖ה בַּנָּשִׁ֑ים אָ֚נָה דוֹדֵ֔ךְ פָּנָ֣ה וּנְבַקְשֶׁ֖נּוּ עִמָּֽךְ׃ ’ā·nāh dō·w·ḏêḵ hā·laḵ hay·yā·p̄āh ban·nā·šîm ’ā·nāh ḏō·w·ḏêḵ pā·nāh ū·nə·ḇaq·šen·nū ‘im·māḵ — WLC · 1
The Bride
2
My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to pasture [his flock] in the gardens and to gather lilies.
𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤉𐤓𐤃 𐤋𐤂𐤍𐤅 𐤋𐤏𐤓𐤅𐤂𐤅𐤕 𐤄𐤁𐤔𐤌 𐤋𐤓𐤏𐤅𐤕 𐤁𐤂𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤋𐤋𐤒𐤈 𐤔𐤅𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌
דּוֹדִי֙ יָרַ֣ד לְגַנּ֔וֹ לַעֲרוּג֖וֹת הַבֹּ֑שֶׂם לִרְעוֹת֙ בַּגַּנִּ֔ים וְלִלְקֹ֖ט שֽׁוֹשַׁנִּֽים׃ dō·w·ḏî yā·raḏ lə·ḡan·nōw la·‘ă·rū·ḡō·wṯ hab·bō·śem lir·‘ō·wṯ bag·gan·nîm wə·lil·qōṭ šō·wō·šan·nîm — WLC · 2
3
I belong to my beloved and [he] belongs to me; he pastures [his flock] among the lilies.
𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤋𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤅𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤋𐤉 𐤄𐤓𐤏𐤄 𐤁𐤔𐤅𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌𐤎
אֲנִ֤י לְדוֹדִי֙ וְדוֹדִ֣י לִ֔י הָרֹעֶ֖ה בַּשׁוֹשַׁנִּֽים׃ס ’ă·nî lə·ḏō·w·ḏî wə·ḏō·w·ḏî lî hā·rō·‘eh ba·šō·šan·nīm — WLC · 3
The Bridegroom
4
You are as beautiful, my darling, as Tirzah, as lovely as Jerusalem, as majestic as troops with banners.
𐤀𐤕 𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤓𐤏𐤉𐤕𐤉 𐤊𐤕𐤓𐤑𐤄 𐤍𐤀𐤅𐤄 𐤊𐤉𐤓𐤅𐤔𐤋𐤌 𐤀𐤉𐤌𐤄 𐤊𐤍𐤃𐤂𐤋𐤅𐤕
אַ֤תְּ יָפָ֨ה רַעְיָתִי֙ כְּתִרְצָ֔ה נָאוָ֖ה כִּירוּשָׁלִָ֑ם אֲיֻמָּ֖ה כַּנִּדְגָּלֽוֹת׃ ’at yā·p̄āh ra‘·yā·ṯî kə·ṯir·ṣāh nā·wāh kî·rū·šā·lim ’ă·yum·māh kan·niḏ·gā·lō·wṯ — WLC · 4
5
Turn your eyes away from me, for they have overcome me. Your hair is like a flock of goats streaming down from Gilead.
𐤏𐤉𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤄𐤎𐤁𐤉 𐤌𐤍𐤂𐤃𐤉 𐤔𐤄𐤌 𐤄𐤓𐤄𐤉𐤁𐤍𐤉 𐤔𐤏𐤓𐤊 𐤊𐤏𐤃𐤓 𐤄𐤏𐤆𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤂𐤋𐤔𐤅 𐤌𐤍 𐤄𐤂𐤋𐤏𐤃
עֵינַ֙יִךְ֙ הָסֵ֤בִּי מִנֶּגְדִּ֔י שֶׁ֥הֵ֖ם הִרְהִיבֻ֑נִי שַׂעְרֵךְ֙ כְּעֵ֣דֶר הָֽעִזִּ֔ים שֶׁגָּלְשׁ֖וּ מִן־ הַגִּלְעָֽד׃ ‘ê·na·yiḵ hā·sêb·bî min·neḡ·dî še·hêm hir·hî·ḇu·nî śa‘·rêḵ kə·‘ê·ḏer hā·‘iz·zîm šeg·gā·lə·šū min- hag·gil·‘āḏ — WLC · 5
6
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin, and not one of them [is] lost.
𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤏𐤃𐤓 𐤄𐤓𐤇𐤋𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤏𐤋𐤅 𐤌𐤍 𐤄𐤓𐤇𐤑𐤄 𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤌 𐤌𐤕𐤀𐤉𐤌𐤅𐤕 𐤀𐤉𐤍 𐤁𐤄𐤌 𐤅𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤄
שִׁנַּ֙יִךְ֙ כְּעֵ֣דֶר הָֽרְחֵלִ֔ים שֶׁעָל֖וּ מִן־ הָרַחְצָ֑ה שֶׁכֻּלָּם֙ מַתְאִימ֔וֹת אֵ֥ין בָּהֶֽם׃ וְשַׁכֻּלָ֖ה šin·na·yiḵ kə·‘ê·ḏer hā·rə·ḥê·lîm še·‘ā·lū min- hā·raḥ·ṣāh šek·kul·lām maṯ·’î·mō·wṯ ’ên bā·hem wə·šak·ku·lāh — WLC · 6
7
Your brow behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.
𐤓𐤒𐤕𐤊 𐤌𐤁𐤏𐤃 𐤋𐤑𐤌𐤕𐤊 𐤊𐤐𐤋𐤇 𐤄𐤓𐤌𐤅𐤍
רַקָּתֵ֔ךְ מִבַּ֖עַד לְצַמָּתֵֽךְ׃ כְּפֶ֤לַח הָרִמּוֹן֙ raq·qā·ṯêḵ mib·ba·‘aḏ lə·ṣam·mā·ṯêḵ kə·p̄e·laḥ hā·rim·mō·wn — WLC · 7
8
There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, and maidens without number,
𐤄𐤌𐤄 𐤔𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤋𐤊𐤅𐤕 𐤅𐤔𐤌𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤐𐤉𐤋𐤂𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤏𐤋𐤌𐤅𐤕 𐤀𐤉𐤍 𐤌𐤎𐤐𐤓
הֵ֙מָּה֙ שִׁשִּׁ֥ים מְּלָכ֔וֹת וּשְׁמֹנִ֖ים פִּֽילַגְשִׁ֑ים וַעֲלָמ֖וֹת אֵ֥ין מִסְפָּֽר׃ hêm·māh šiš·šîm mə·lā·ḵō·wṯ ū·šə·mō·nîm pî·laḡ·šîm wa·‘ă·lā·mō·wṯ ’ên mis·pār — WLC · 8
9
but my dove, my perfect one,… is unique, the favorite… of the mother who bore her. The maidens see her and call her blessed; the queens and concubines sing her praises.
𐤉𐤅𐤍𐤕𐤉 𐤕𐤌𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤇𐤕 𐤄𐤉𐤀 𐤀𐤇𐤕 𐤄𐤉𐤀 𐤁𐤓𐤄 𐤄𐤉𐤀 𐤋𐤀𐤌𐤄 𐤋𐤉𐤅𐤋𐤃𐤕𐤄 𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤕 𐤓𐤀𐤅𐤄 𐤅𐤉𐤀𐤔𐤓𐤅𐤄 𐤌𐤋𐤊𐤅𐤕 𐤅𐤐𐤉𐤋𐤂𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤅𐤉𐤄𐤋𐤋𐤅𐤄𐤎
יוֹנָתִ֣י תַמָּתִ֔י אַחַ֥ת הִיא֙ אַחַ֥ת הִיא֙ בָּרָ֥ה הִ֖יא לְאִמָּ֔הּ לְיֽוֹלַדְתָּ֑הּ בָנוֹת֙ רָא֤וּהָ וַֽיְאַשְּׁר֔וּהָ מְלָכ֥וֹת וּפִֽילַגְשִׁ֖ים וַֽיְהַלְלֽוּהָ׃ס yō·w·nā·ṯî ṯam·mā·ṯî ’a·ḥaṯ hî ’a·ḥaṯ hî bā·rāh hî lə·’im·māh lə·yō·w·laḏ·tāh ḇā·nō·wṯ rā·’ū·hā way·’aš·šə·rū·hā mə·lā·ḵō·wṯ ū·p̄î·laḡ·šîm way·hal·lū·hā — WLC · 9
The Friends
10
Who is this who shines like the dawn, as fair as the moon, as bright as the sun, as majestic as the stars in procession?
𐤌𐤉 𐤆𐤀𐤕 𐤄𐤍𐤔𐤒𐤐𐤄 𐤊𐤌𐤅 𐤔𐤇𐤓 𐤉𐤐𐤄 𐤊𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤄 𐤁𐤓𐤄 𐤊𐤇𐤌𐤄 𐤀𐤉𐤌𐤄 𐤊𐤍𐤃𐤂𐤋𐤅𐤕𐤎
מִי־ זֹ֥את הַנִּשְׁקָפָ֖ה כְּמוֹ־ שָׁ֑חַר יָפָ֣ה כַלְּבָנָ֗ה בָּרָה֙ כַּֽחַמָּ֔ה אֲיֻמָּ֖ה כַּנִּדְגָּלֽוֹת׃ס mî- zōṯ han·niš·qā·p̄āh kə·mōw- šā·ḥar yā·p̄āh ḵal·lə·ḇā·nāh bā·rāh ka·ḥam·māh ’ă·yum·māh kan·niḏ·gā·lō·wṯ — WLC · 10
The Bridegroom
11
I went down to the walnut grove to see the blossoms of the valley, to see if the vines were budding or the pomegranates [were] in bloom.
𐤉𐤓𐤃𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤋 𐤀𐤂𐤅𐤆 𐤂𐤍𐤕 𐤋𐤓𐤀𐤅𐤕 𐤁𐤀𐤁𐤉 𐤄𐤍𐤇𐤋 𐤋𐤓𐤀𐤅𐤕 𐤄𐤂𐤐𐤍 𐤄𐤐𐤓𐤇𐤄 𐤄𐤓𐤌𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤄𐤍𐤑𐤅
יָרַ֔דְתִּי אֶל־ אֱגוֹז֙ גִּנַּ֤ת לִרְא֖וֹת בְּאִבֵּ֣י הַנָּ֑חַל לִרְאוֹת֙ הַגֶּ֔פֶן הֲפָֽרְחָ֣ה הָרִמֹּנִֽים׃ הֵנֵ֖צוּ yā·raḏ·tî ’el- ’ĕ·ḡō·wz gin·naṯ lir·’ō·wṯ bə·’ib·bê han·nā·ḥal lir·’ō·wṯ hag·ge·p̄en hă·p̄ā·rə·ḥāh hā·rim·mō·nîm hê·nê·ṣū — WLC · 11
12
Before I realized it, my desire had set me among the royal chariots of my people.
𐤋𐤀 𐤉𐤃𐤏𐤕𐤉 𐤍𐤐𐤔𐤉 𐤔𐤌𐤕𐤍𐤉 𐤍𐤃𐤉𐤁 𐤌𐤓𐤊𐤁𐤅𐤕 𐤏𐤌𐤉
לֹ֣א יָדַ֔עְתִּי נַפְשִׁ֣י שָׂמַ֔תְנִי נָדִֽיב׃ מַרְכְּב֖וֹת עַמִּי־ lō yā·ḏa‘·tî nap̄·šî śā·maṯ·nî nā·ḏîḇ mar·kə·ḇō·wṯ ‘am·mî- — WLC · 12
The Friends
13
Come back, come back, O Shulammite! Come back, come back, that we may gaze upon you. Why do you look at the Shulammite, as on the dance of Mahanaim
𐤔𐤅𐤁𐤉 𐤔𐤅𐤁𐤉 𐤄𐤔𐤅𐤋𐤌𐤉𐤕 𐤔𐤅𐤁𐤉 𐤔𐤅𐤁𐤉 𐤅𐤍𐤇𐤆𐤄 𐤁𐤊 𐤌𐤄 𐤕𐤇𐤆𐤅 𐤁𐤔𐤅𐤋𐤌𐤉𐤕 𐤊𐤌𐤇𐤋𐤕 𐤄𐤌𐤇𐤍𐤉𐤌
שׁ֤וּבִי שׁ֙וּבִי֙ הַשּׁ֣וּלַמִּ֔ית שׁ֥וּבִי שׁ֖וּבִי וְנֶחֱזֶה־ בָּ֑ךְ מַֽה־ תֶּחֱזוּ֙ בַּשּׁ֣וּלַמִּ֔ית כִּמְחֹלַ֖ת הַֽמַּחֲנָֽיִם׃ šū·ḇî šū·ḇî haš·šū·lam·mîṯ šū·ḇî šū·ḇî wə·ne·ḥĕ·zeh- bāḵ mah- te·ḥĕ·zū baš·šū·lam·mîṯ kim·ḥō·laṯ ham·ma·ḥă·nā·yim — WLC · 13