| |
Youngs Literal Translation |   | |
 |
| |
| | Sgs 2:1 | As a lily among the thorns,
| |
| | Sgs 2:2 | So `is' my friend among the daughters!
| |
| | Sgs 2:3 | As a citron among trees of the forest, So `is' my beloved among the sons, In his shade I delighted, and sat down, And his fruit `is' sweet to my palate.
| |
| | Sgs 2:4 | He hath brought me in unto a house of wine, And his banner over me `is' love,
| |
| | Sgs 2:5 | Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I `am' sick with love.
| |
| | Sgs 2:6 | His left hand `is' under my head, And his right doth embrace me.
| |
| | Sgs 2:7 | I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
| |
| | Sgs 2:8 | The voice of my beloved! lo, this -- he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
| |
| | Sgs 2:9 | My beloved `is' like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this -- he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice.
| |
| | Sgs 2:10 | My beloved hath answered and said to me, `Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away,
| |
| | Sgs 2:11 | For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away -- it hath gone.
| |
| | Sgs 2:12 | The flowers have appeared in the earth, The time of the singing hath come, And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land,
| |
| | Sgs 2:13 | The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.
| |
| | Sgs 2:14 | My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice `is' sweet, and thy appearance comely.
| |
| | Sgs 2:15 | Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes -- destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweet-smelling vineyards.
| |
| | Sgs 2:16 | My beloved `is' mine, and I `am' his, Who is delighting among the lilies,
| |
| | Sgs 2:17 | Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!
| |
