Song.
Chapter 7.
How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O daughter of the prince! The curves of your thighs are like jewels, the handiwork of a master. 
Your navel is a rounded goblet; it never lacks blended wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by the lilies. 
Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. 
Your neck is like a tower made of ivory; your eyes are like the pools of Heshbon by the gate of Bath-rabbim; your nose is like the tower of Lebanon, facing toward Damascus. 
Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel, the hair of your head like purple threads; the king is captured in your tresses. 
How fair and pleasant you are, O love, with your delights! 
Your stature is like a palm tree; your breasts are clusters of fruit. 
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, 
and your mouth like the finest wine. May it flow smoothly to my beloved, gliding gently over lips and teeth. 
I belong to my beloved, and his desire is for me. 
Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside; let us spend the night among the wildflowers. 
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. 
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. 
