Selected verses from The Song of Songs (c.900 BC)
Tota pulchra es, amica mea, et macula non est in te.
Surge, propera, amica mea. Favus distillans labia tua; mel et lac sub lingua tua; odor unguentorum tuorum super omnia aromata. Surge, propera, amica mea. Tota pulchra es, amica mea. |
Thou art all fair, my love, there is no flaw in thee.
Arise, make haste, my love. Thy lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under thy tongue; the scent of thine ointments is beyond all spices. Arise, make haste, my love. Thou art all fair, O my love |