Song 5 | Fn | Min | Max | Syll | ||
בָּ֣אתִי לְגַנִּי֮ אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּה֒ אָרִ֤יתִי מוֹרִי֙ עִם־בְּשָׂמִ֔י אָכַ֤לְתִּי יַעְרִי֙ עִם־דִּבְשִׁ֔י שָׁתִ֥יתִי יֵינִ֖י עִם־חֲלָבִ֑י אִכְל֣וּ רֵעִ֔ים שְׁת֥וּ וְשִׁכְר֖וּ דּוֹדִֽים | 1 | B | I am come into my garden, my sister perfection. I have foraged my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my forest with my honey. I have imbibed my wine with my milk. Eat, friends, imbibe, and be intoxicated, beloved. | 3e | 4C | 36 11 |
אֲנִ֥י יְשֵׁנָ֖ה וְלִבִּ֣י עֵ֑ר ק֣וֹל ׀ דּוֹדִ֣י דוֹפֵ֗ק פִּתְחִי־לִ֞י אֲחֹתִ֤י רַעְיָתִי֙ יוֹנָתִ֣י תַמָּתִ֔י שֶׁרֹּאשִׁי֙ נִמְלָא־טָ֔ל קְוֻּצּוֹתַ֖י רְסִ֥יסֵי לָֽיְלָה | 2 | I, I sleep, and my heart is aroused. The voice of my beloved knocking, Open to me, my sister, my friend, my dove, my completion, for my head is filled with dew, my locks with shards of night. | 3e | 4C | 9 35 | |
פָּשַׁ֙טְתִּי֙ אֶת־כֻּתָּנְתִּ֔י אֵיכָ֖כָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁ֑נָּה רָחַ֥צְתִּי אֶת־רַגְלַ֖י אֵיכָ֥כָה אֲטַנְּפֵֽם | 3 | I have stripped out of my coat; why should I clothe myself? I have washed my feet; why should I soil them? | 3e | 4A | 14 12 | |
דּוֹדִ֗י שָׁלַ֤ח יָדוֹ֙ מִן־הַחֹ֔ר וּמֵעַ֖י הָמ֥וּ עָלָֽיו | 4 | My beloved extended his hand from the hole, and my inner parts murmured for him. | 3e | 4C | 16 | |
קַ֥מְתִּֽי אֲנִ֖י לִפְתֹּ֣חַ לְדוֹדִ֑י וְיָדַ֣י נָֽטְפוּ־מ֗וֹר וְאֶצְבְּעֹתַי֙ מ֣וֹר עֹבֵ֔ר עַ֖ל כַּפּ֥וֹת הַמַּנְעֽוּל | 5 | f | I, I arose to open to my beloved, and my hands dropped myrrh, and my fingers myrrh, passing through upon the handles of the door-bolt. | 3e | 4B | 10 20 |
פָּתַ֤חְתִּֽי אֲנִי֙ לְדוֹדִ֔י וְדוֹדִ֖י חָמַ֣ק עָבָ֑ר נַפְשִׁי֙ יָֽצְאָ֣ה בְדַבְּר֔וֹ בִּקַּשְׁתִּ֙יהוּ֙ וְלֹ֣א מְצָאתִ֔יהוּ קְרָאתִ֖יו וְלֹ֥א עָנָֽנִי | 6 | I myself opened to my beloved, and my beloved had curved away, passed through. My self had come out to speak to him. I sought him and did not find him. I called him and he did not answer me. | 3e | 4C | 15 25 | |
מְצָאֻ֧נִי הַשֹּׁמְרִ֛ים הַסֹּבְבִ֥ים בָּעִ֖יר הִכּ֣וּנִי פְצָע֑וּנִי נָשְׂא֤וּ אֶת־רְדִידִי֙ מֵֽעָלַ֔י שֹׁמְרֵ֖י הַחֹמֽוֹת | 7 | The keepers found me going round about in the city. They struck me. They inflicted wounds on me. They lifted up my wrap from me, the keepers of the walls. | 3c | 4C | 19 14 | |
הִשְׁבַּ֥עְתִּי אֶתְכֶ֖ם בְּנ֣וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָ֑ם אִֽם־תִּמְצְאוּ֙ אֶת־דּוֹדִ֔י מַה־תַּגִּ֣ידוּ ל֔וֹ שֶׁחוֹלַ֥ת אַהֲבָ֖ה אָֽנִי | 8 | I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, how you will make clear to him, that I am writhing with love. | 3e | 4B | 11 20 | |
מַה־דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד הַיָּפָ֖ה בַּנָּשִׁ֑ים מַה־דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד שֶׁכָּ֖כָה הִשְׁבַּעְתָּֽנוּ | 9 | Why such infatuation with your beloved, fairest among women? Why such infatuation with your beloved that thus you adjure us? | 3e | 4B | 11 12 | |
דּוֹדִ֥י צַח֙ וְאָד֔וֹם דָּג֖וּל מֵרְבָבָֽה | 10 | My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, a banner set up among ten thousand. | 3e | 3g | 11 | |
רֹאשׁ֖וֹ כֶּ֣תֶם פָּ֑ז קְוּצּוֹתָיו֙ תַּלְתַּלִּ֔ים שְׁחֹר֖וֹת כָּעוֹרֵֽב | 11 | His head is fine gold, pure gold, his locks wavy, blackest before dawn, as a raven. | 3e | 4B | 5 12 | |
עֵינָ֕יו כְּיוֹנִ֖ים עַל־אֲפִ֣יקֵי מָ֑יִם רֹֽחֲצוֹת֙ בֶּֽחָלָ֔ב יֹשְׁב֖וֹת עַל־מִלֵּֽאת | 12 | His eyes as doves by the watercourse, washed in milk, sitting over fullness. | 3e | 4B | 11 11 | |
לְחָיָו֙ כַּעֲרוּגַ֣ת הַבֹּ֔שֶׂם מִגְדְּל֖וֹת מֶרְקָחִ֑ים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו֙ שֽׁוֹשַׁנִּ֔ים נֹטְפ֖וֹת מ֥וֹר עֹבֵֽר | 13 | His cheeks as a terrace of spices, piquant towers, his lips lilies, droplets of myrrh passing through. | 3e | 4B | 16 11 | |
יָדָיו֙ גְּלִילֵ֣י זָהָ֔ב מְמֻלָּאִ֖ים בַּתַּרְשִׁ֑ישׁ מֵעָיו֙ עֶ֣שֶׁת שֵׁ֔ן מְעֻלֶּ֖פֶת סַפִּירִֽים | 14 | His hands are rolls of gold inlaid with beryl, his abdomen gleams of ivory, languishing with sapphires. | 3e | 4B | 14 12 | |
שׁוֹקָיו֙ עַמּ֣וּדֵי שֵׁ֔שׁ מְיֻסָּדִ֖ים עַל־אַדְנֵי־פָ֑ז מַרְאֵ֙הוּ֙ כַּלְּבָנ֔וֹן בָּח֖וּר כָּאֲרָזִֽים | 15 | His legs standing pillars of fine linen founded upon sockets of pure gold, his appearance like Lebanon, chosen, as the cedars. | 3e | 4B | 14 12 | |
חִכּוֹ֙ מַֽמְתַקִּ֔ים וְכֻלּ֖וֹ מַחֲּמַדִּ֑ים זֶ֤ה דוֹדִי֙ וְזֶ֣ה רֵעִ֔י בְּנ֖וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָֽם | 16 | His palate is sweetness, and all of him is attractive. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem. | 3e | 4C | 12 13 |
For there is a language of flowers
for flowers are peculiarly, the poetry of Christ (Christopher Smart)
א ב ג ד ה ו ז ח ט י כ ל מ נ ס ע פ צ ק ר ש ת
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