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Song of Songs 7

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1 τί ὡραιώθησαν διαβήματά σου ἐν ὑποδήμασιν θύγατερ Ναδαβ ῥυθμοὶ μηρῶν σου ὅμοιοι ὁρμίσκοις ἔργῳ χειρῶν τεχνίτου 2 ὀμφαλός σου κρατὴρ τορευτὸς μὴ ὑστερούμενος κρᾶμα κοιλία σου θιμωνιὰ σίτου πεφραγμένη ἐν κρίνοις 3 δύο μαστοί σου ὡς δύο νεβροὶ δίδυμοι δορκάδος 4 τράχηλός σου ὡς πύργος ἐλεφάντινος ὀφθαλμοί σου ὡς λίμναι ἐν Εσεβων ἐν πύλαις θυγατρὸς πολλῶν μυκτήρ σου ὡς πύργος τοῦ Λιβάνου σκοπεύων πρόσωπον Δαμασκοῦ 5 κεφαλή σου ἐπὶ σὲ ὡς Κάρμηλος καὶ πλόκιον κεφαλῆς σου ὡς πορφύρα βασιλεὺς δεδεμένος ἐν παραδρομαῖς 6 τί ὡραιώθης καὶ τί ἡδύνθης ἀγάπη ἐν τρυφαῖς σου 7 τοῦτο μέγεθός σου ὡμοιώθη τῷ φοίνικι καὶ οἱ μαστοί σου τοῖς βότρυσιν 8 εἶπα ἀναβήσομαι ἐν τῷ φοίνικι κρατήσω τῶν ὕψεων αὐτοῦ καὶ ἔσονται δὴ μαστοί σου ὡς βότρυες τῆς ἀμπέλου καὶ ὀσμὴ ῥινός σου ὡς μῆλα 9 καὶ λάρυγξ σου ὡς οἶνος ὁ ἀγαθὸς πορευόμενος τῷ ἀδελφιδῷ μου εἰς εὐθύθητα ἱκανούμενος χείλεσίν μου καὶ ὀδοῦσιν 1 What can the woman of Sulam give you to feast your eyes on, if it be not the dance of the Two Camps?[1]

Ah, princely maid, how dainty are the steps of thy sandalled feet! Thighs well shaped as the beads of a necklace, some master-craftsman’s work; 2 navel delicately carved as a goblet, that has ever its meed of liquor, belly rounded like a heap of corn amid the lilies. 3 Graceful thy breasts are as two fawns of the gazelle. 4 Thy neck rising proudly like a tower, but all of ivory; deep, deep thy eyes, like those pools at Hesebon, under Beth-rabbim Gate; thy nose imperious as the keep that frowns on Damascus from the hill-side. 5 Thy head erect as Carmel, bright as royal purple the braided ripples of thy hair. 6 How graceful thou art, dear maiden, how fair, how dainty! 7 Thy stature challenges the palm tree, thy breasts the clustering vine. 8 What thought should I have but to reach the tree’s top, and gather its fruit? Breasts generous as the grape, breath sweet as apples, 9 mouth soft to my love’s caress[2] as good wine is soft to the palate, as food to lips and teeth.
1

Sponsa. Quid videbis in Sulamite, nisi choros castrorum?
Chorus. Quam pulchri sunt gressus tui in calceamentis, filia principis!
Juncturæ femorum tuorum sicut monilia
quæ fabricata sunt manu artificis.
2
Umbilicus tuus crater tornatilis,
numquam indigens poculis.
Venter tuus sicut acervus tritici vallatus liliis.
3
Duo ubera tua sicut duo hinnuli,
gemelli capreæ.
4
Collum tuum sicut turris eburnea;
oculi tui sicut piscinæ in Hesebon
quæ sunt in porta filiæ multitudinis.
Nasus tuus sicut turris Libani,
quæ respicit contra Damascum.
5
Caput tuum ut Carmelus;
et comæ capitis tui sicut purpura regis
vincta canalibus.
6
Sponsus. Quam pulchra es, et quam decora,
carissima, in deliciis!
7
Statura tua assimilata est palmæ,
et ubera tua botris.
8
Dixi: Ascendam in palmam,
et apprehendam fructus ejus;
et erunt ubera tua sicut botri vineæ,
et odor oris tui sicut malorum.
9
Guttur tuum sicut vinum optimum,
dignum dilecto meo ad potandum,
labiisque et dentibus illius ad ruminandum.
10 ἐγὼ τῷ ἀδελφιδῷ μου καὶ ἐ{P'} ἐμὲ ἡ ἐπιστροφὴ αὐτοῦ 11 ἐλθέ ἀδελφιδέ μου ἐξέλθωμεν εἰς ἀγρόν αὐλισθῶμεν ἐν κώμαις 12 ὀρθρίσωμεν εἰς ἀμπελῶνας ἴδωμεν εἰ ἤνθησεν ἡ ἄμπελος ἤνθησεν ὁ κυπρισμός ἤνθησαν αἱ ῥόαι ἐκεῖ δώσω τοὺς μαστούς μου σοί 13 οἱ μανδραγόραι ἔδωκαν ὀσμήν καὶ ἐπὶ θύραις ἡμῶν πάντα ἀκρόδρυα νέα πρὸς παλαιά ἀδελφιδέ μου ἐτήρησά σοι 10 My true love, I am all his; and who but I the longing of his heart?[3] 11 Come with me, my true love; for us the country ways, the cottage roof for shelter. 12 Dawn shall find us in the vineyard, looking to see what flowers the vine has, and whether they are growing into fruit; whether the pomegranates are in blossom. And there thou shalt be master of my love. 13 The mandrakes, what scent they give! Over the door at home there are fruits of every sort a-drying; I put them by, new and old, for my true love to eat. 10
Sponsa. Ego dilecto meo,
et ad me conversio ejus.
11
Veni, dilecte mi, egrediamur in agrum,
commoremur in villis.
12
Mane surgamus ad vineas:
videamus si floruit vinea,
si flores fructus parturiunt,
si floruerunt mala punica;
ibi dabo tibi ubera mea.
13
Mandragoræ dederunt odorem
in portis nostris omnia poma:
nova et vetera, dilecte mi, servavi tibi.
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