The song of songs, the most special of poems, which is Solomon’s. Solomon king of Israel is said to have composed a great number of poems.

The poem opens without identifying its speaker, but its grammatical context, which addresses a male beloved, leaves no doubt that these are the words of a young woman: May he kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, as your love is better than wine. Alternatively: The wetness of your mouth is better than wine. The speaker’s transition from employing third person pronouns to directly addressing her subject likely alludes to a process in which passionate fantasies feel more and more real, eventually giving the impression that the beloved is present even if he is not.

The woman continues to praise her beloved: By the fragrance of your good oils, even your name is pleasant like poured oil [shemen turak], and therefore, the young women love you. The young woman speaks not only of love for her partner and a yearning for personal closeness to him, but also of her admiration for him, noting that he is loved by all.

Draw me; after you we will run together. The verse portrays a budding romance: The young man woos the young woman, and she takes hold of his hand and runs with him. However, they do not run aimlessly: The king brought me to his private chambers. At this point, another layer is added to the poem, as the woman discovers that her beloved is no ordinary man but the king himself. Although the beloved will sometimes be described as a shepherd, perhaps the king prefers to appear as a simple man rather than a ruler when courting his loved one. However, when they finally run together, the king takes her specifically to his palace chambers. Alternatively, in the eyes of the woman, her beloved shepherd is a king, and she feels like a queen whose groom, the king, is leading her to his home. This motif does not seem typical of a love poem. It reveals another layer of meaning: The soul, which until now has wandered in the familiar outside world, finds itself inside the chamber of the beloved king. There let us exult and rejoice in you. We will recount your love, which is sweeter and more intoxicating than wine. Rightly [meisharim] do they love you, or upright individuals love you.

The woman declares: I am black but lovely, daughters of Jerusalem. The city of Jerusalem serves as the backdrop for the poem. I am black like the tents of the tribes of Kedar. These tents were made from the wool of the local goats, which were typically black, like the curtains of Solomon, which were most splendid, and perhaps also black. The woman’s black and beautiful appearance is illustrated by a pair of contrasting images: coarse wool and royal drapes.

Do not gaze at me disrespectfully, seeing that I am dark, for this is not my natural color; rather, the sun has tanned me. The woman now addresses how a fair and modest daughter of Jerusalem faced such exposure to the sun: The sons of my mother were incensed at me; they placed me as guard of the family vineyards, to chase away any animals that attempted to infiltrate. However, because of the task imposed upon me, my own vineyard I did not guard. I too have a vineyard of my own, but the members of my family who quarreled with me cared only for their vineyards, while mine was left abandoned. This verse can be understood as the personal struggle of a woman who wishes to extricate herself from the plight of her perceived external ugliness, and to reveal her hidden beauty. However, the verse can also be interpreted metaphorically as a declaration by the Jewish people: Admittedly we are not clean and pure as snow, but the blackness of our sins is not a natural blemish, nor was it caused by circumstances of our own choosing. As a nation, we have been forced to wander frequently. Because of the other nations, we were forced to fulfill various roles for the benefit of the world, to preserve their vineyards. Therefore, we were left without the time or opportunity to protect our own vineyard.

Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where do you herd your flock? Where do you rest your flock at noon? Why should I be as one bound to the flocks of your colleagues? Alternatively: Why should I wrap myself up or veil myself for reasons of modesty, in following the flocks of other shepherds? If you tell me where to find you, I will not be forced to wander in the company of strangers.

For the first time, the lover’s response is heard: If you do not know where I am, you, the fairest among women, go out in the footsteps of the sheep and herd your kids. Apparently, in addition to being a keeper of vineyards, the woman is also a shepherdess. A young shepherdess would generally be given a small flock of kids, while the larger flocks were shepherded by men. The matriarch Rachel likely shepherded such a small flock. You must seek me by the tents of the shepherds. The beloved is unable to give the young woman an address where she can find him. Rather, she must go out to seek him. Similarly, the final destination of the soul’s great journey, like that of Israel’s travels in the wilderness, lies beyond the horizon.

The lover briefly expresses his love for the woman, even more emphatically than her expressions of affection for him: To a mare in Pharaoh’s chariots I have likened you, my love. Horses are generally considered beautiful creatures. A horse harnessed to one of Pharaoh’s chariots would be perfect and adorned with decorations.

Like the horse in Pharaoh’s chariot, your cheeks are lovely and decorated with rings, apparently large earrings that rest on the cheeks; your neck is decorated with beads.

You are worthy of even grander jewelry: We will make you golden rings with studs of silver. Silver studs stand out prominently on a golden background, like white spots on dark fur. Allegorically, the chariots of Pharaoh recall Israel’s exodus from Egypt, while the various ornaments are reminiscent of the great wealth taken from there by the children of Israel. This combination of gold and silver has been given many other interpretations, some of them mystical.

The young woman’s response again expresses her desire to be close to her beloved: While the king was at his feast, my lavender emitted its fragrance. Among all the fragrances at the king’s feast, the scent of my lavender is the most pronounced.

A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, lying between my breasts. The young woman dreams: If only my beloved were like a bundle of myrrh hanging from my neck and resting in my bosom.

A cluster of henna, a fragrant plant whose fruit grows in clusters, my beloved is to me, in the vineyards of Ein Gedi, where henna apparently grew. Perhaps the woman anticipates meeting her lover there.

As the pace of the exchange between the beloved and his lover increases, the beloved speaks again: Behold, you are fair, my love; behold, you are fair; your eyes are like doves. Doves are a symbol of beauty and grace; the comparison of the woman’s eyes to doves is also indicative of perfection and tranquility, which arouse the man’s love.

The young woman responds: Behold, you are fair, my beloved, your company is pleasant too; indeed our bed is fresh. She fantasizes of a shared home and bed.

The beams of our houses are made of cedars, and our rafters are junipers. Two aspects of the lovers’ relationship are intertwined in this passage. Alongside passionate love, there is a motif of calm and the stability of home. When the woman calls to her lover, “Draw me; after you we will run” (verse 4), the intention is not to run and play aimlessly, as the same verse concludes: “The king brought me to his chambers.” The blossoming love between them, which is expressed by the fresh bed of the previous verse, is followed by the dream of sharing a home. Their relationship must eventually be brought into a stable framework. The young man and woman, though completely engulfed in a passionate love, still set as their goal a shared home, symbolizing the nation of Israel in Egypt or in the wilderness who, caught up in their romance with God, still yearned to reach their homeland.

I am as beautiful as a daffodil of the Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

Her beloved confirms: Indeed, like a lily among the thorns, so is my love among the girls. You stand out among all the other girls, and you are different from them. Furthermore, just as one can enjoy the conspicuous beauty of a lily, but it is difficult to approach the flower due to the thorns, so too you are not easily accessible. This depiction alludes to the simultaneous intimacy and distance present in their relationship, which can be understood at all levels of interpretation.

The young woman praises her beloved: Like an apple tree, with its distinct aroma, among the plain trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the boys. In addition to its scent, the apple tree possesses other advantages: In its shade I delighted and I sat, and its fruit was sweet to my palate.

He brought me to the wine house, a kind of tavern where men would drink. It is not clear whether such a tavern would serve women as well. Consequently, it seems that this phrase is an expression of the young woman’s wish that her lover would allow her to accompany him wherever he goes. It is also possible that this wine house was the equivalent of a modern-day café. Alternatively, this term refers to a vineyard. And his gaze [diglo] upon me is love. Diglu in Akkadian indicates seeing or gazing. Alternatively, our love is his banner [degel]; he takes pride in displaying to others the love that radiates from us.

Support me with raisin cakes, cushion me with a bed of apples, for I am lovesick. In her weakness, the woman requests to be surrounded by fruit so as to create an aromatic, pleasant environment. It is possible that she mentions raisin cakes [ashishot] because of the reinforcement [ishush] that she requires. They were known by this name because they were considered to give strength to those who ate them. The raisin cakes and apples literarily parallel the wine house and the apple tree mentioned in the previous two verses.

His left arm is under my head and his right embraces me. In pining for her beloved, she imagines that she is lying close to him.

I administer an oath to you, daughters of Jerusalem, who are not active participants in the story but background characters surrounding the woman, by the gazelles, and by the deer of the field, that you not awaken and not rouse love, until it desires to awaken by itself. Do not stir the love from the outside; let it develop naturally. Since this oath involves matters of the heart, the woman invokes animals that symbolize beauty and love. This obscure language, which is repeated elsewhere in The Song of Songs (3:5, 8:4), indicates that the young woman is confident that her relationship with her beloved will ultimately blossom, and so she requests that her love be allowed to advance at the appropriate pace. Her fantasies of constant and public companionship, represented by the wine house, do not need to come to fruition immediately; on the contrary, she is worried that they might materialize prematurely. Still, she yearns for her beloved to reveal their mutual love before all at the appropriate time. Allegorically understood, the nation of Israel wishes for God to reveal Himself and display before all the nations His love and closeness to Israel.

The sound of the footsteps of my beloved, behold he approaches, leaping on the mountains, bounding on the hills toward me.

My beloved is like a gazelle or a fawn, skipping speedily over the hills, in all its splendor; behold, he is already standing behind our wall. I can hear him behind the wall, and I can sense his presence, watching from the windows, peering at me through the cracks. Like the events of national redemption, an individual’s relationship with God is neither linear nor orderly. The gazelle racing over the mountains is alternately visible and hidden, as is the woman’s beloved as he stands behind the wall, only visible through a crack in the structure. The metaphor of the wall expresses varying stages of revelation and concealment.

Drawing near, my beloved turned to me and spoke up, and he said to me: Get up, my love, my fair one, and go by yourself. Alternatively, come with me. The time has arrived for you to venture forth on a journey and to progress to a higher plane.

For, behold, the winter [setav], the rainy season, has passed; the rain is over and gone. Although in modern Hebrew setav means autumn, in this verse it refers to winter, and this is also its meaning in Aramaic. In fact, it is questionable whether the Land of Israel has an autumn season at all, since its two principal seasons are a hot, dry summer and a rainy winter.

The blossoms have been seen in the land, the time of the nightingale has arrived, and the characteristic sound of the turtledove is heard in our land. These migratory birds pass through Israel during the spring, and are therefore a sign of winter’s end.

The fig tree formed its unripe figs. Unripe figs begin to form in early spring. And the blossoming vines have formed their budding, and emitted their pleasant fragrance. These buds appear as clusters of small white flowers. Get up, my love, my fair one, and go. Spring is the best time for walking in nature.

My dove, my love, who hides in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the terrace: Come out, and show me your appearance, let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasant, and your appearance is lovely. The time has come for you to reveal yourself. This can be understood as a call to the individual soul or the nation of Israel to take action, as the time of redemption has arrived. According to the Sages’ allegorical reading, these verses allude to Israel’s exodus from Egypt, which took place in the spring. According to the allegory of the individual soul’s yearning for God, these verses describe how the periods of cold and darkness during which the soul was in hibernation are over, and have been replaced with light and life; it is therefore time to rise and venture forth.

However, the path ahead is neither straight nor smooth: Catch for us the foxes, those little foxes that ruin the vineyards, as our vineyards are already in bud, and the damage caused by the foxes can be significant. The little foxes symbolize the troubles of both the individual and the collective. Although they are not dangerous to humans, they can cause significant damage to vineyards as the grapes begin to grow. Likewise, even when the lovers’ romance begins to blossom, other troubles lie ahead.

Although there are obstacles to our coming together, this is not due to emotional distance: My beloved is mine, and I am his, who herds among the lilies. Although my beloved shepherds among the lilies, as I gather from his pleasant scent, he always remembers me, and I him; so the love between us will last. Even when I must chase away the foxes that ruin the vineyard, and he is occupied with important matters in his own world, there can be no doubting our bond.

We cannot see each other until the day is great, until the sun shines fully, or until the wind blows, and the shadows flee. In the meantime, turn around, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young hart on the cleft mountains, mountains that are scored by ravines and valleys. Alongside the yearning for closeness, the partners give each other space. This point is often lost between lovers. Not all times are ripe for intense passion, and it is sometimes preferable to allow one’s beloved to tend to his or her own matters. Here the young woman is confident in the strength of their bond; she is certain that her beloved will return. Whether this verse refers to historical events in the process of national redemption or to the experiences of the individual’s soul, there are times of passion, revelation, and intimacy, and there are also times of calm, concealment, and distance. In these moments of distance, the couple is not truly separated from one another. Rather, their connection is toned down, demanding less of each of them. Love requires moments of respite so that its intensity does not become overwhelming.

While the woman’s beloved runs over the hills, she remains at home, yearning for him: On my bed during the nights I sought the one whom my soul loves. In light of verse 4 below, it seems her sleeping chambers are not in her parents’ house. I sought him, but I did not find him. He was not close by. One of the symbolic interpretations of this description is that the soul seeks God at times of loneliness and difficulty, only to find Him distant.

She takes action: I will rise now, and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares. I will seek the one whom my soul loves; perhaps he can be found in the city streets. However, again, I sought him, but I did not find him.

The watchmen who patrol the city found me, and I asked them: Have you seen the one whom my soul loves? It appears that they too had not seen her beloved. The appearance of watchmen indicates that this takes place in an established city, probably Jerusalem, which contains not only marketplaces and streets but also a patrol.

Since the watchmen offer no help, she turns elsewhere. I had almost passed them, when I found the one whom my soul loves. After three desperate attempts to find her beloved, first at home, then in the streets, and finally after asking others, she finds him. I grasped him and I would not release him until I brought him to my mother’s house, and to the chamber of the one who conceived me. Unlike in other parts of the text, where the house and bed represent erotic love (e.g., 1:4, 16), in this verse the home symbolizes emotional closeness and family. In terms of the soul’s experience, the soul seeks the object of its love in order to return to the emotional relationships of its childhood. One’s parents’ house is the place of his initial development. Therefore, the relationship must be built there. Symbolically, returning to the mother’s home represents the Jewish people returning to their national homeland from their exile among the gentile nations, and in a spiritual sense, returning to God. The people of Israel implore God: Let us return to our original state.

Once again, the woman issues her warning: I administer an oath to you, daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, that you not awaken and not rouse love, until it desires to awaken by itself. As mentioned above (2:7), love has a natural course of development, and it must be allowed to intensify on its own at the appropriate pace. Elsewhere, the poem contains expressions of great passion, but this verse speaks of a contrasting idea: Let love develop on its own terms; do not fan its flames prematurely.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness like columns of smoke, which are visible in the desert from afar? This is not regular smoke, but perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, fragrant spices, and with all the powders of the merchant. Merchants used to travel from place to place peddling cosmetics and jewelry to women.

At this point, the story turns in a new direction. King Solomon, who until now was mentioned only in the opening verse of the book, appears as a character in the story, as a king among his people: Behold the bed of Solomon: There are sixty valiant men forming one or several perimeters around it, from the valiant of Israel.

All these valiant men are armed with a sword, trained in war; each man, a sword on his thigh, from fear in the nights. There are fears that prey even on great rulers such as Solomon, and the guards therefore surround his bed. Although they primarily served as a guard of honor, these valiant men also protect Solomon from sudden attack in the night.

King Solomon made himself a grand canopy, or perhaps a canopied bed, from the wood of Lebanon.

He made its pillars of silver, its cushioning of gold, and its seat of valuable purple wool.Solomon’s guards protect his canopy against strangers approaching from the outside, but its interior is inlaid with love, from the daughters of Jerusalem who came to King Solomon’s bed. This could refer to Solomon’s many wives and concubines (see 6:8).

Emerge, daughters of Zion, who represent the surrounding public, and gaze at King Solomon,at the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding,and on the day of the rejoicing of his heart.

Behold, you are fair, my love; behold, you are fair; your eyes are graceful and calming as a pair of doves; they peer out from behind your braid, which rests partly on your face. In the context of God’s song to Israel, these dovelike eyes have been interpreted as an allusion to the willingness to accept a burden without complaint, and to go wherever one is sent. Your hair is like a flock of goats that stream down from the highlands of Gilad, an area of pasture. The goats in this imagery are black, and more active than sheep, evoking the way a young woman’s curly black locks flow down her head.

Your teeth are like a flock of ordered ewes that have come up from being washed, when they are extremely white and clean. As the ewes emerge simultaneously from the water, the entire herd is lined up like white teeth, that are all paired, and there is none missing among them.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your speech is lovely. Some people have beautiful mouths but as soon as they open them to speak, their charm fades. In your case, however, your speech complements your physical beauty. Your temple [rakkatekh] is like a pomegranate slice which is exposed behind your braid. The Sages expound rakkatekh based on the word reik, empty. Even the emptiest or most depraved member of Israel is like a pomegranate slice containing numerous seeds, which represent good deeds.

Your neck is like the tower of David, long and upright, built magnificently [talpiyot]. This tower of David is not the construction known by that name today, but another tall tower in ancient Jerusalem that no longer stands. Here, the beloved praises the posture of the bride, the nation of Israel. The Sages explain this verse as a reference to the Temple, which stood on the hill [tel] to which all mouths [piyot] turn in prayer. One thousand bucklers are hung upon it, all the shields of the mighty.The mighty men in the fortress would hang their shields on the tower as a show of strength. This tower on which a thousand shields hung resembled the woman’s upright neck decorated with many ornaments.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. The birth of twins is not a particularly common phenomenon among gazelles or deer. When twin fawns stand together, their black noses stand out, which is especially striking when they graze among the white lilies.

In the meantime, until the day is great, or until the hot wind blows, that is, until noon, and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, the mountain where myrrh grows, and to the hill of frankincense, where the air is fragrant and pleasant. The beloved, who grazes his flock among the lilies and wanders in the mountains, tells his love that he is leaving for a short while and will return home when the sun is at full strength.

The beloved concludes his poem with a verse that echoes its beginning: All of you is fair, my love, and there is no blemish in you; you are perfect. When one is in love, one sees no flaw in the object of one’s love. Even if certain blemishes or problems appear, one considers them no more than temporary stains and passing shadows, and the overall picture remains perfect. This holds true even with regard to divine love.

With me from Mount Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon, come. Let us wander together in Lebanon and return. Perhaps the beloved is approaching from northern Israel. Look from the peak of Amana, from the peak of Senir and Hermon. Senir is another name for Mount Hermon, perhaps a specific side of the mountain. Look out from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards. These forested areas were largely uncultivated expanses in which lions and leopards roamed. The wild regions of Lebanon, with their array of predators, serve as a contrasting background to the gentle bride, the Jewish people, or the soul.

You have charmed me, my sister, my love, my bride; you have charmed me with my seeing even just one of your eyes, with even one bead of your necklace. Even the smallest glimpse of you moves me.

How fair is your loving, or the moistness of your mouth, my sister, my bride. How much better is your loving than wine, and the fragrance of your oils, even the simplest of them, is more delightful than all spices.

Your lips drip nectar, my bride, honey and milk are under your tongue, your taste is sweet and pleasant, and the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon, a rainy, fertile, and forested region.

A locked garden is my sister, my bride; a locked fountainhead, a sealed spring. Although your beauty is arresting, it is not in the public domain; it is designated for one man only.

Your branches, your external appearance, your garments and coverings, are like the pleasant sight of an orchard of pomegranates, with delicious fruit, and they are scented like hennas with lavenders, perfumes (see 1:12, 14). You radiate beauty from every angle.

lavender and saffron, lemongrass and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the finest spices. Of the eleven spices blended into the incense used in the Temple, only four are specified by name in the Torah. Almost all of the rest are taken from this list.

The singer returns to the image of the bride as a spring in a locked garden: She is a source of life, a garden spring, a well of spring water, and flowing streams from Lebanon. The spring’s source is in the distant and fertile mountain peaks.

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind; blow upon my garden, my bride, and its perfume will spread, or: The sap of its perfumed trees will flow. Unlike many places in the Bible that mention the covenant between God and Israel and its ensuing obligations, this passage expresses the romantic aspect of the covenant. This poem of love and praise is reminiscent of Jeremiah’s invocation of the nuptial love between God and Israel in the wilderness. At the starting point in their shared journey, there was a sense of confidence and mutual commitment regarding the future, a faith that all would be well. The groom is moved by the perfect beauty and loyalty of the bride, and he waits for her lovely scent to spread across great distances. After all this praise by the beloved, the bride responds with a brief, modest invitation: Let my beloved come to his garden and eat his delicious fruits. The garden is not locked to you; the fountain is open before you.

I came to my garden, filled with all types of goodness, my sister, my bride; I gathered my myrrh with my perfume; I ate my honeycomb with my honey; I drank my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; drink, and make love. The image is of a romantic lovers’ tryst.

I am sleeping, but my heart is awake. In this semiconscious state, something inside me alerted me: The sound of my beloved is knocking.Despite my drowsiness, some part of me was alert, eagerly listening for him. I could hear him calling out to me: Open for me, my sister, my love, my faultless dove, my perfect beauty. There is a tone of familiarity and closeness in these expressions of affection by the male protagonist. He continues: Open for me, for my head is filled with dew from waiting outside at night; my locks are filled with the drops of night, dew. I am wet, it is uncomfortable outdoors, and I seek shelter.

The woman says to herself: I have already taken off my tunic; how can I don it now? I have washed my feet before bed; how can I soil them by walking on the floor to open the door? She does not answer her beloved’s call.

My beloved extended his hand through the hole in the door. When he did so, my love welled up and my core [me’ay] was moved for him, my insides turned over from excitement. Although in modern Hebrew the term me’ayim refers specifically to the intestines, in the Bible it refers to the internal cavity of one’s body, and by extension, to the heart and soul.

I arose to open for my beloved; my perfumed hands were dripping with liquid myrrh, and my fingers with myrrh passing onto the handles of the latch. The scent of myrrh reached outside.

I opened for my beloved; but while I had hesitated, my beloved had slipped away, was gone. My soul had departed with his speaking. When he turned to me before, my heart stopped due to my profound love and longing. Now he was nowhere to be found. I sought him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The verse possibly describes not an actual event, but a lover’s troubled dream brought on by anxiety over a potential missed opportunity. Allegorically, this episode refers to real missed opportunities for redemption, on both a national and a personal level. Historically and personally, complacency and other obstacles to salvation prevent the long-sought union with God from taking place.

After searching for my beloved near the house to no avail, I went out into the streets. There the sentries patrolling in the city found me, and when they saw that I was wandering alone at night they struck me, they wounded me; apparently, they considered me a loiterer deserving of punishment. The guards of the walls took my shawl from upon me. The guards of the walls are not necessarily her enemies. Since they are charged with preserving the public order, they punish the woman for what they perceive as inappropriate behavior. Similarly, the individual’s soul or the nation as a whole can react to a missed opportunity counterproductively. Plagued with visions of what might have been, it can attempt to seize the moment after it has passed, and in the process transgress boundaries. Such transgression always incurs punishment.

Here, it seems, the dream comes to an end. Now the woman addresses her friends: I administer an oath to you, daughters of Jerusalem; now, come to my aid: If you find my beloved, what should you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick. Previously she bid the daughters of Jerusalem to promise that they would let the love awaken by itself (2:7, 3:5). Now, after the nocturnal episode, whether real or imagined, she no longer has the strength to hide her feelings or to keep up appearances. She entreats the daughters of Jerusalem to reveal her powerful love to her beloved.

The women ask her: How is your beloved more than another beloved, O fairest of women? Who is your beloved? How can we recognize him? How is your beloved more special than another beloved, that you administer an oath to us so? Notably, in The Song of Songs, the beloved is unknown. He appears intermittently and then vanishes, and no one can identify or locate him. In the background of the text hovers the question of how real the beloved actually is. For the time being, he has no formal relationship with the woman. They rarely meet, and at this stage of the story they are never seen together in public. Allegorically understood, the mysterious nature of the beloved represents the mysterious nature of God.

The young woman responds: The face of my beloved is clear and ruddy, his skin is clean and white, and his cheeks are red like a beautiful youth. This mixture of red and white is consistent with the image of an apple to which the beloved was previously compared (2:3). My beloved is more eminent [dagul] than ten thousand. Like a flag [degel], my beloved stands out from the masses, unique.

His head is impressively shaped as a work of the finest gold; his locks are curls, black as a raven. In ancient times, the hair color of Israelites was typically black.

His eyes are perfect, radiating beauty and calm, like doves beside streams of water. This is a pastoral image of grace and tranquility. A dove drinks by sucking water into its beak and directly into its throat, making no swallowing movement of its head. A pair of doves drinking thus appears to be in synchrony, as they change neither their stance nor their movements. His dark eyes are set against the backdrop of his light skin as if they are bathed in milk, well set like precious stones, neither protruding nor sunken.

His cheeks are like a bed of fragrant plants, growths of spice mixtures. An Israelite of the time would not be clean-shaven, and as the beloved is young, his beard is likely to be short, like small herbs growing in their beds. His lips are colored, or velvety and fragrant like lilies; dripping with flowing, fragrant myrrh.

His hands are built as rods of gold set with beryl [tarshish]; his belly is like a solid slab of ivory covered with sapphires.

His calves are pillars of marble, set on bases of fine gold. The beloved is compared to a work of art. His appearance is like the forested region of Lebanon, fertile and teeming with life, choice like the tall, impressive cedars that grow there.

His palate is sweet and all of him is delightful. This is my beloved, and this is my companion, daughters of Jerusalem. The bride lovingly depicts her beloved as the epitome of beauty. In her eyes, all of his features are wonderful and perfect. Her descriptions do not provide her listeners with practical details that might help them locate her beloved, but they illustrate her feelings for him. Many allegorical interpretations have been offered for these descriptions. The question: “How is your beloved more than another beloved”? (verse 9) has been posed to the nation of Israel for over two thousand years. The answer to this question is: You may not be able to see Him until He reveals Himself, but we can see that He is perfect, and we can do nothing other than seek Him everywhere.

The daughters of Jerusalem respond in unison: Where did your beloved go, fairest of women? Where did your beloved turn? We will seek him with you.

The woman responds: My beloved descended to his garden, to the beds of fragrant plants. She does not provide an exact location, but she knows that he is supposed to be in a place of beauty and fragrance, to herd his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies for himself.

She concludes: I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. It is he who herds among the lilies. Though he is not currently with me, this does not mean he is avoiding me. I am certain that our love is real. For now, however, my beloved has descended to his garden. Perhaps he will return to me with flowers.

The beloved himself speaks, though the object of his love is likely not present. You are fair, my love, like Tirtza, a small city in the portion of Manasseh, which at one point served as the capital of the Kingdom of Israel. It is possible that its beauty played a role in its being chosen as the capital. You are lovely like Jerusalem and you are formidable like banners [nidgalot]. You stand out as a banner on display as it flutters high above. Alternatively, nidgalot refers to arrays of decorated soldiers.

Avert your eyes from me, as they excite my arrogance, or passion, when they gaze upon me. Your black, curly hair, flowing down your back, is like a flock of goats that has streamed down from the Gilad.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes that have come up from being washed, that are all paired, and there is none missing among them. Your teeth are perfect and beautiful.

Your temple is like a pomegranate slice, round and beautiful, behind your braid, or lock of hair, falling over your face and sides.

They are sixty queens, wives of King Solomon, and eighty concubines, and around him there are also young women without number. Perhaps this is a poem composed about or by King Solomon, presumably in his youth.

Despite Solomon’s many women, unique is my faultless dove; she stands above them all. Unique to her mother, there is no woman like her; she is pure to the one who bore her. Girls see her and laud her, queens and concubines see her and praise her.

The beloved continues to praise his bride: Who is she who appears in the distance, glowing like the dawn, fair like the moon, pure and shining like the sun? The initial light of dawn is very gentle; the light of the moon is not strong, but it is pleasant and clear; the sun that eventually shines forth is the brightest of all. She is formidable like banners.

Here the narrator could be either the beloved or his love, but it is probably the latter: I have gone down to the nut garden to look at the budding [ibbei] of the vale, the fresh fruits or plants of the valley. Perhaps the word aviv, spring, is derived from ibbei, as spring is the season of regrowth and vitality. I have gone to see whether the vine has blossomed and the pomegranates are in bloom. This takes place in spring, when people generally venture down to gardens and streams to see the blossoming plants. Many commentaries explain this image of initial growth as representing the exodus from Egypt.

I am utterly amazed by the experience, as if I do not know my own soul in this surreal state that resembles a dream. It has set me, I feel as though I have been set on chariots of my noble [nadiv] people, as if he has taken me upon his chariot among his soldiers. Some suggest that the phrase ami nadiv, my noble people, is an allusion to Aminadav father of Nahshon, the prince of Judah.

This part of the song evokes the dancing young women, calling to the most beautiful among them: Return, return, turn around, or rejoin our dancing, the Shulamite. This is probably not a person’s name, but an appellation for a perfect [mushlemet], beautiful girl, the bride of the beloved. Return, return, and we will gaze upon you. And a response: Why will you gaze at the Shulamite like a dance of two companies of dancers? Why do you look at the Shulamite in this circle of dancers? Although the Shulamite appears together with all the other girls, she stands out. Allegorically understood, the Shulamite could be a metaphor for Israel among the nations or for the soul that shines out from the body.

The Shulamite’s beauty is now described in detail, from her toes to her head: How fair are your steps, or your feet, in sandals, daughter of a nobleman. Your rounded thighs are like ornaments, the handiwork of a master craftsman, perfect as a work of art.

Your navel is a moon-shaped goblet, or bowl. May it not lack mixed wine. Your belly is round, smooth, and symmetrical, like a pile of wheat in a granary, hedged with lilies. This last expression is an image of carefully guarded beauty.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. This simile relies on both the fawns’ physical shape and their aesthetic beauty.

Your neck is upright, white, and beautiful, like an ivory tower; your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bat Rabim. Heshbon was an ancient city located on the eastern side of the Jordan River that served as a political and commercial center even before Israel entered the land of Canaan. It is possible that Heshbon boasted two large pools near its city gates, perhaps in a public square where many people [rabim] would gather. The imagery evokes large, deep, and tranquil eyes. Your nose, or your forehead, is like the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus in the distance.

Your head is elegantly set upon you like the Carmel. This could also be a reference to the woman’s curly hair, since Mount Carmel has lush vegetation. And the locks of your head are carefully arranged like soft strands of purple wool, displayed in magnificent arrangements due to the wool’s rarity and price. A king, the beloved, is bound in the tresses.

The previous description of the bride, which was the most intimate so far, is now followed by expressions of the mutual adoration between the lovers: How fair you are and how pleasant you are, love in its delights. Love waxes and wanes, and includes, alongside dreams and aspirations, also heartache. However, love in its delights is consummated love, in which joy is fully realized.

The beloved’s poem of intimacy: This, your stature, is likened to a tall, beautiful date palm, and your breasts are likened to round clusters of dates that hang at its sides.

The image of the date palm continues: I said to myself: I will ascend the date palm, I will grasp its branches; and please may your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the fragrance of your nose pleasant like apples.

Your palate, the taste of your kisses, is like fine wine that goes pleasantly with my lovemaking [dodi], or that goes pleasantly into my mouth. Another possible interpretation is that the word dodi here means “my beloved,” a reference to the male lover. If so, this phrase is recited by the bride. However, since the first phrase, “Your palate is like fine wine,” is addressed to the female lover, then this latter phrase must be an interjection as the young woman completes her beloved’s sentence. The man continues: Your palate is like fine wine, moving the lips of the sleeping so that they speak.

The woman responds: I am my beloved’s, or I yearn for my beloved, and his desire is toward me.

Come, my beloved, let us go out alone to the field; let us stay the night in the villages. These are not necessarily actual plans. They may simply be fantasies that convey the depth of her emotion and passion.

Let us arise early to the vineyards; let us see whether the vine has blossomed, the grape bud has sprouted. Let us see whether the pomegranates have bloomed. This scene takes place during the spring, when the flowers of the pomegranate tree appear, undoubtedly a beautiful sight. There, in the tranquil and beautiful vineyard, I will give my love to you. These descriptions of springtime can also be understood as an allusion to the exodus from Egypt, as Passover is always in the spring. There is a special obligation to remember the exodus, which was itself the springtime blossoming of Israel into a nation, during the month in which all of nature blossoms and the promise of the future beckons.

After a while, the mandrakes have emitted fragrance. Mandrakes do not emit their pleasant fragrance in the spring. Rather, they ripen approximately one and a half months later, at the time of the wheat harvest. Therefore, a considerable time must have passed since the invitation of the previous verse. And at our entrance are the scents of all types of delicacies, both new, which have sprouted recently, and old. All of this sweetness, new and old, I have hidden them away for you, my beloved. At this point, the courtship that has been developing throughout the entire story reaches its conclusion. The love between the beloved and his bride is depicted here at its apex, when the beloved describes his love as utterly beautiful and graceful, and she responds by noting that all of nature is ripe for the consummation of their love, and that she waits only for him.

Until this point, the poem described a love bounded neither by space nor by time, with the lovers seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. In the following verses, the woman expresses her desire to strengthen and stabilize her bond with her beloved: If only you were like a brother to me, who sucked the breasts of my mother. I would find you outside; I would kiss you, yet they would not despise me. Kissing a brother in public is not considered an undignified act. The young woman yearns to openly display her love for her beloved in such a natural manner.

I would lead you unabashedly, I would bring you to my mother’s house, who teaches me; there I would give you from the spiced wine to drink, from the juice of my pomegranate.

Another fantasy: His left arm is under my head, and his right embraces me intimately.

Nevertheless, I administer an oath to you, daughters of Jerusalem: For what do you awaken and for what do you rouse love, until it desires to awaken by itself? Let the love develop at its own pace.

This verse is spoken by a third party, depicting the relationship from a more stable, objective perspective: Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? Is it not the woman, who says to her beloved: Under the apple tree I met you and I roused you from your slumber; or, I roused your love for me. There your mother conceived you; there she who bore you conceived. The word ĥibela, translated here as “conceived,” could also mean “suffered birth pangs.” The shade of the apple tree is the beloved’s place of origin, and it is there that he now encounters his love. Previously, the woman sought to bring her beloved into her mother’s house; now, she arrives from an unknown wilderness, drawn to the place where her beloved was formed. Though she does not meet his parents, she makes reference to them. Understood allegorically, this verse refers to the soul’s quest to rise above the mundane, and to find God in its own source and origin.

The woman asks of her beloved: Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm. Let me be like your seal, a personal item unique to you. This is another symbol of the increasing permanence of their bond. So powerful is the woman’s devotion that she wishes to relinquish her independent existence altogether, preferring to attach herself to her beloved as a seal. There is, however, another side to this, as love is as intense as death. Alongside the delights of love, there is also a dark side. Just as death swallows everything and cannot be deferred, so too the feelings of love are so overpowering as to be inescapable. Furthermore, jealousy is as cruel as the grave. This refers to the demand for exclusive possession of the object of one’s love. Such jealousy is a profound emotion that is difficult to bear. Understood allegorically, the jealousy that is built into love for God, who demands complete devotion, is very difficult for other peoples to comprehend. To the nation of Israel, the relationship with God is not only its most important bond, but the only thing in the world that matters. This feeling is as harsh, absolute, and uncompromising as the grave. Its sparks, the sparks of love, are the sparks of fire, which can burn and even destroy a person. Love is a great conflagration.

If love is true, much water cannot extinguish the fire of that love, and rivers cannot wash it away; even if a man were to give all the wealth of his house for the purchase of love, he would be scorned. By means of gestures, gifts, and displays of emotion, one can acquire a certain level of friendship, but not love.

Now, relatives of the lovers begin to openly discuss their relationship. The brothers of the young woman speak first: We have a little sister, and she has no breasts, she is too young and insufficiently developed. Therefore, what shall we do for our sister on the day that she will be spoken for concerning marriage? Since she is not yet ready for marriage, what shall we do when the proposal arrives? How long can we delay it?

As long as the little sister was simply playing outside, singing and dancing, the brothers did not take much notice of her behavior. Now, however, they begin to appraise her character: If she is a wall, guarded and modest, we will build upon her a silver parapet, we will decorate her with conspicuous jewelry. And if she is a door, which can be open and unguarded, we will affix on her cedar panels to protect her.

The young woman responds: First, I am a wall, not a door, and second, my breasts are like the towers. I have breasts; you have merely failed to notice how much I have grown. Then, in this state, I was in his eyes, the eyes of the beloved, who is perhaps not immediately present, as one who finds peace. My beloved already knows that I have found my peace with my choice of him. You should have no misgivings about my relationship. I am ready physically, emotionally, and morally to be married.

An anonymous third party provides background for the continuation of the woman’s speech: King Solomon had a vineyard at Baal Hamon. He gave the vineyard to the guards, to take care of it. Each would bring, earn in exchange for its fruit, a sizable income of one thousand pieces of silver. The vineyard symbolizes a woman, specifically the female protagonist of the poem, and Solomon is her guardian, the closest thing to a paternal figure, who has appointed the brothers to look after their sister. These guards of the vineyard receive a handsome payment for fruits of the vineyard. Allegorically, the nation of Israel is the vineyard. When it fulfills its divine purpose, its profits are distributed among the nations, if they only know to appreciate the vineyard and show responsibility for it.

Now, the young woman, who considers herself mature, decides for herself the fate of her vineyard: My vineyard is before me, and I intend to give it to my beloved; I intend to marry him. As part of the arrangement, the profits from the vineyard will be distributed: The thousand is for you, Solomon, the custodian, and two hundred will be given for those who guard its fruit. Now, when the couple wishes to establish their bond in marriage, they erect boundaries. Allegorically speaking, the bride is the individual soul or the Jewish people that yearns and seeks to be married to God. In this context, the Sages expound that “the day of his wedding” (3:11) refers to the giving of the Torah, and “the day of the rejoicing of his heart” refers to the building of the Temple (see commentary on 3:11). Of course, there was love between God and Israel before these events, but their relationship was not cemented in a formal covenant. The giving of the Torah was the wedding of Israel to God, as it was at that moment that a binding relationship was established. Likewise, when God dwelled among the nation of Israel with the building of the Temple, it was as if the bride and groom had created a new, shared household. On every level of interpretation, the same questions are posed: Who is the bride? Is she worthy? Is she ready for marriage or must she wait a few more years? And on every level of interpretation, a permanent relationship consists of agreements and commitments, and carries with it a price. The great King Solomon clearly does not require more money. Still, in order to finalize the agreement, the bride must relinquish part of her inheritance and give her vineyard as a dowry.

Throughout this dialogue, the beloved was not present. Now, he addresses his bride-to-be: You, the one who dwells in the gardens, whose companions listen to your voice, as you proved when you spoke to the brothers: Let me hear it. I wish to meet you and listen to your sweet voice myself.

She responds: Indeed, the consummation of our relationship is nearer than ever, but its time has not yet arrived. In the meantime, flee, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young deer on the mountains of spices. You are assured of my love; I am yours. Now leap on the hills and enjoy their fragrance, for I know that you will return.