← 6 | ← Song of Solomon | 8 →
Chapter 7
Admiration by the Bridegroom
1
How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O daughter of the prince! The curves of your thighs are like jewels, the handiwork… of a master.
𐤌𐤄 𐤉𐤐𐤅 𐤁𐤍𐤏𐤋𐤉𐤌 𐤐𐤏𐤌𐤉𐤊 𐤁𐤕 𐤍𐤃𐤉𐤁 𐤇𐤌𐤅𐤒𐤉 𐤉𐤓𐤊𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤌𐤅 𐤇𐤋𐤀𐤉𐤌 𐤌𐤏𐤔𐤄 𐤉𐤃𐤉 𐤀𐤌𐤍
מַה־ יָּפ֧וּ בַּנְּעָלִ֖ים פְעָמַ֛יִךְ בַּת־ נָדִ֑יב חַמּוּקֵ֣י יְרֵכַ֔יִךְ כְּמ֣וֹ חֲלָאִ֔ים מַעֲשֵׂ֖ה יְדֵ֥י אָמָּֽן׃ mah- yā·p̄ū ban·nə·‘ā·lîm p̄ə·‘ā·ma·yiḵ baṯ- nā·ḏîḇ ḥam·mū·qê yə·rê·ḵa·yiḵ kə·mōw ḥă·lā·’îm ma·‘ă·śêh yə·ḏê ’ām·mān — WLC · 1
2
Your navel is a rounded goblet; it never lacks blended wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by the lilies.
𐤔𐤓𐤓𐤊 𐤄𐤎𐤄𐤓 𐤀𐤂𐤍 𐤀𐤋 𐤉𐤇𐤎𐤓 𐤄𐤌𐤆𐤂 𐤁𐤈𐤍𐤊 𐤏𐤓𐤌𐤕 𐤇𐤈𐤉𐤌 𐤎𐤅𐤂𐤄 𐤁𐤔𐤅𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌
שָׁרְרֵךְ֙ הַסַּ֔הַר אַגַּ֣ן אַל־ יֶחְסַ֖ר הַמָּ֑זֶג בִּטְנֵךְ֙ עֲרֵמַ֣ת חִטִּ֔ים סוּגָ֖ה בַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּֽים׃ šā·rə·rêḵ has·sa·har ’ag·gan ’al- yeḥ·sar ham·mā·zeḡ biṭ·nêḵ ‘ă·rê·maṯ ḥiṭ·ṭîm sū·ḡāh baš·šō·wō·šan·nîm — WLC · 2
3
Your breasts… are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.
𐤔𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤔𐤍𐤉 𐤔𐤍𐤉 𐤏𐤐𐤓𐤉𐤌 𐤕𐤀𐤌𐤉 𐤑𐤁𐤉𐤄
שָׁדַ֛יִךְ כִּשְׁנֵ֥י שְׁנֵ֥י עֳפָרִ֖ים תָּאֳמֵ֥י צְבִיָּֽה׃ šā·ḏa·yiḵ kiš·nê šə·nê ‘o·p̄ā·rîm tā·’o·mê ṣə·ḇî·yāh — WLC · 3
4
Your neck is like a tower [made] of ivory; your eyes are like the pools of Heshbon by the gate vvv of Bath-rabbim; your nose is like the tower of Lebanon, facing toward… Damascus.
𐤑𐤅𐤀𐤓𐤊 𐤊𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤋 𐤄𐤔𐤍 𐤏𐤉𐤍𐤉𐤊 𐤁𐤓𐤊𐤅𐤕 𐤁𐤇𐤔𐤁𐤅𐤍 𐤏𐤋 𐤔𐤏𐤓 𐤁𐤕 𐤓𐤁𐤉𐤌 𐤀𐤐𐤊 𐤊𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤋 𐤄𐤋𐤁𐤍𐤅𐤍 𐤑𐤅𐤐𐤄 𐤐𐤍𐤉 𐤃𐤌𐤔𐤒
צַוָּארֵ֖ךְ כְּמִגְדַּ֣ל הַשֵּׁ֑ן עֵינַ֜יִךְ בְּרֵכ֣וֹת בְּחֶשְׁבּ֗וֹן עַל־ שַׁ֙עַר֙ בַּת־ רַבִּ֔ים אַפֵּךְ֙ כְּמִגְדַּ֣ל הַלְּבָנ֔וֹן צוֹפֶ֖ה פְּנֵ֥י דַמָּֽשֶׂק׃ ṣaw·wā·rêḵ kə·miḡ·dal haš·šên ‘ê·na·yiḵ bə·rê·ḵō·wṯ bə·ḥeš·bō·wn ‘al- ša·‘ar baṯ- rab·bîm ’ap·pêḵ kə·miḡ·dal hal·lə·ḇā·nō·wn ṣō·w·p̄eh pə·nê ḏam·mā·śeq — WLC · 4
5
Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel, the hair of your head like purple [threads]; the king is captured in your tresses.
𐤓𐤀𐤔𐤊 𐤏𐤋𐤉𐤊 𐤊𐤊𐤓𐤌𐤋 𐤅𐤃𐤋𐤕 𐤓𐤀𐤔𐤊 𐤊𐤀𐤓𐤂𐤌𐤍 𐤌𐤋𐤊 𐤀𐤎𐤅𐤓 𐤁𐤓𐤄𐤈𐤉𐤌
רֹאשֵׁ֤ךְ עָלַ֙יִךְ֙ כַּכַּרְמֶ֔ל וְדַלַּ֥ת רֹאשֵׁ֖ךְ כָּאַרְגָּמָ֑ן מֶ֖לֶךְ אָס֥וּר בָּרְהָטִֽים׃ rō·šêḵ ‘ā·la·yiḵ kak·kar·mel wə·ḏal·laṯ rō·šêḵ kā·’ar·gā·mān me·leḵ ’ā·sūr bā·rə·hā·ṭîm — WLC · 5
6
How fair and pleasant [you are], O love, with your delights!
𐤌𐤄 𐤉𐤐𐤉𐤕 𐤅𐤌𐤄 𐤍𐤏𐤌𐤕 𐤀𐤄𐤁𐤄 𐤁𐤕𐤏𐤍𐤅𐤂𐤉𐤌
מַה־ יָּפִית֙ וּמַה־ נָּעַ֔מְתְּ אַהֲבָ֖ה בַּתַּֽעֲנוּגִֽים׃ mah- yā·p̄îṯ ū·mah- nā·‘amt ’a·hă·ḇāh bat·ta·‘ă·nū·ḡîm — WLC · 6
7
- Your stature is like a palm tree; your breasts are clusters of fruit.
𐤆𐤀𐤕 𐤒𐤅𐤌𐤕𐤊 𐤃𐤌𐤕𐤄 𐤋𐤕𐤌𐤓 𐤅𐤔𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤋𐤀𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤅𐤕
זֹ֤את קֽוֹמָתֵךְ֙ דָּֽמְתָ֣ה לְתָמָ֔ר וְשָׁדַ֖יִךְ לְאַשְׁכֹּלֽוֹת׃ zōṯ qō·w·mā·ṯêḵ dā·mə·ṯāh lə·ṯā·mār wə·šā·ḏa·yiḵ lə·’aš·kō·lō·wṯ — WLC · 7
8
I said, “I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.” May your breasts be… like clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples,
𐤀𐤌𐤓𐤕𐤉 𐤀𐤏𐤋𐤄 𐤁𐤕𐤌𐤓 𐤀𐤇𐤆𐤄 𐤁𐤎𐤍𐤎𐤍𐤉𐤅 𐤔𐤃𐤉𐤊 𐤅𐤉𐤄𐤉𐤅 𐤍𐤀 𐤊𐤀𐤔𐤊𐤋𐤅𐤕 𐤄𐤂𐤐𐤍 𐤅𐤓𐤉𐤇 𐤀𐤐𐤊 𐤊𐤕𐤐𐤅𐤇𐤉𐤌
אָמַ֙רְתִּי֙ אֶעֱלֶ֣ה בְתָמָ֔ר אֹֽחֲזָ֖ה בְּסַנְסִנָּ֑יו שָׁדַ֙יִךְ֙ וְיִֽהְיוּ־ נָ֤א כְּאֶשְׁכְּל֣וֹת הַגֶּ֔פֶן וְרֵ֥יחַ אַפֵּ֖ךְ כַּתַּפּוּחִֽים׃ ’ā·mar·tî ’e·‘ĕ·leh ḇə·ṯā·mār ’ō·ḥă·zāh bə·san·sin·nāw šā·ḏa·yiḵ wə·yih·yū- nā kə·’eš·kə·lō·wṯ hag·ge·p̄en wə·rê·aḥ ’ap·pêḵ kat·tap·pū·ḥîm — WLC · 8
9
and your mouth like the finest wine. May it flow smoothly to my beloved, gliding gently over lips and teeth.
𐤅𐤇𐤊𐤊 𐤄𐤈𐤅𐤁 𐤊𐤉𐤉𐤍 𐤄𐤅𐤋𐤊 𐤋𐤌𐤉𐤔𐤓𐤉𐤌 𐤋𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤃𐤅𐤁𐤁 𐤔𐤐𐤕𐤉 𐤉𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌
וְחִכֵּ֕ךְ הַטּ֛וֹב כְּיֵ֥ין הוֹלֵ֥ךְ לְמֵישָׁרִ֑ים לְדוֹדִ֖י דּוֹבֵ֖ב שִׂפְתֵ֥י יְשֵׁנִֽים׃ wə·ḥik·kêḵ haṭ·ṭō·wḇ kə·yên hō·w·lêḵ lə·mê·šā·rîm lə·ḏō·w·ḏî dō·w·ḇêḇ śip̄·ṯê yə·šê·nîm — WLC · 9
10
I belong to my beloved, and his desire is for me.
𐤀𐤍𐤉 𐤋𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤕𐤔𐤅𐤒𐤕𐤅𐤎 𐤅𐤏𐤋𐤉
אֲנִ֣י לְדוֹדִ֔י תְּשׁוּקָתֽוֹ׃ס וְעָלַ֖י ’ă·nî lə·ḏō·w·ḏî tə·šū·qā·ṯōw wə·‘ā·lay — WLC · 10
11
Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside; let us spend the night among the wildflowers.
𐤋𐤊𐤄 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉 𐤍𐤑𐤀 𐤄𐤔𐤃𐤄 𐤍𐤋𐤉𐤍𐤄 𐤁𐤊𐤐𐤓𐤉𐤌
לְכָ֤ה דוֹדִי֙ נֵצֵ֣א הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה נָלִ֖ינָה בַּכְּפָרִֽים׃ lə·ḵāh ḏō·w·ḏî nê·ṣê haś·śā·ḏeh nā·lî·nāh bak·kə·p̄ā·rîm — WLC · 11
12
Let us go early to the vineyards to see if the vine has budded, if the blossom… has opened, if the pomegranates are in bloom— there I will give you my love.
𐤍𐤔𐤊𐤉𐤌𐤄 𐤋𐤊 𐤋𐤊𐤓𐤌𐤉𐤌 𐤍𐤓𐤀𐤄 𐤀𐤌 𐤄𐤂𐤐𐤍 𐤐𐤓𐤇𐤄 𐤄𐤎𐤌𐤃𐤓 𐤄𐤍𐤑𐤅 𐤐𐤕𐤇 𐤄𐤓𐤌𐤅𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤔𐤌 𐤀𐤕𐤍 𐤀𐤕 𐤃𐤃𐤉
נַשְׁכִּ֙ימָה֙ לָֽךְ׃ לַכְּרָמִ֔ים נִרְאֶ֞ה אִם הַגֶּ֙פֶן֙ פָּֽרְחָ֤ה הַסְּמָדַ֔ר הֵנֵ֖צוּ פִּתַּ֣ח הָרִמּוֹנִ֑ים שָׁ֛ם אֶתֵּ֥ן אֶת־ דֹּדַ֖י naš·kî·māh lāḵ lak·kə·rā·mîm nir·’eh ’im hag·ge·p̄en pā·rə·ḥāh has·sə·mā·ḏar hê·nê·ṣū pit·taḥ hā·rim·mō·w·nîm šām ’et·tên ’eṯ- dō·ḏay — WLC · 12
13
The mandrakes send forth a fragrance, and at our door is every delicacy, new as well as old, that I have treasured up for you, my beloved.
𐤄𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤀𐤉𐤌 𐤍𐤕𐤍𐤅 𐤓𐤉𐤇 𐤅𐤏𐤋 𐤐𐤕𐤇𐤉𐤍𐤅 𐤊𐤋 𐤌𐤂𐤃𐤉𐤌 𐤇𐤃𐤔𐤉𐤌 𐤂𐤌 𐤉𐤔𐤍𐤉𐤌 𐤑𐤐𐤍𐤕𐤉 𐤋𐤊 𐤃𐤅𐤃𐤉
הַֽדּוּדָאִ֣ים נָֽתְנוּ־ רֵ֗יחַ וְעַל־ פְּתָחֵ֙ינוּ֙ כָּל־ מְגָדִ֔ים חֲדָשִׁ֖ים גַּם־ יְשָׁנִ֑ים צָפַ֥נְתִּי לָֽךְ׃ דּוֹדִ֖י had·dū·ḏā·’îm nā·ṯə·nū- rê·aḥ wə·‘al- pə·ṯā·ḥê·nū kāl- mə·ḡā·ḏîm ḥă·ḏā·šîm gam- yə·šā·nîm ṣā·p̄an·tî lāḵ dō·w·ḏî — WLC · 13