1 Solomon’s Song of Songs.
Personal Song of Songs.
2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more delightful than wine.
Keep kissing me, your mouth is delicious—it’s a taste that rivals wine, intoxicating me.
3 Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out. No wonder the maidens love you!
The smell of you brings me pleasure; your skin has a unique fragrance that stops me dead in my tracks. But it’s your name, your inside, that is most pungent to me. No wonder women are drawn to you, panting for your attention.
4 Take me away with you—let us hurry! Let the king bring me into his chambers.
Wisk me away with you—I can hardly wait to be swept up into your adventure. More than anything I can’t wait to get into a bedroom and, well, you know.
We rejoice and delight in you; we will praise your love more than wine.
We look up to you and respect your way of life; we talk about your relationship and liken it to aged wine, fragrant and smooth.
How right they are to adore you!
I don’t blame everyone for making a big deal about you!
5 Dark am I, yet lovely, O daughters of Jerusalem, dark like the tents of Kedar, like the tent curtains of Solomon.
I know I’m not like the airbrushed cover girls, but there is more to me than meets the naked eye, ladies. I’ve been wounded along the way; life has taken its toll.
6 Do not stare at me because I am dark, because I am darkened by the sun.
I get self-conscious sometimes when people stare at me because I am consumed with the thought that I don’t measure up to the unspoken standard of beauty that’s out there.
My mother’s sons were angry with me and made me take care of the vineyards; my own vineyard I have neglected.
I’ve suffered many wounds at the hands of my family along the way that have shaped my heart, sculpting my psyche in such a way that I hesitate when I walk, reluctant to assume an identity, especially if it seems too good to be true. I fear that as I’ve become what others infer I am, I’ve neglected myself along the way, almost embarrassed to speak kindly of my own heart.
7 Tell me, you whom I love, where you graze your flock and where you rest your sheep at midday. Why should I be like a veiled woman beside the flocks of your friends?
Someone talk to me about me. Why should I always fall short of the glory I long for? Why do I always feel inferior to those I stand side by side with? Are they any better than me? Then why do I feel that they live with a freedom and beauty I don’t possess? I veil myself to protect myself from any further hurt. I have a hard time with my naked self. I’m bashful to be seen in all my glory.
8 If you do not know, most beautiful of women, follow the tracks of the sheep and graze your young goats by the tents of the shepherds.
If you’re questioning your place in this world, beautiful as you are, move toward a relationship to see if you have what it takes, to see what glory exists under your veil. Don’t be shy to put yourself out there for pursuit. You’ll be surprised what a catch you are.
9 I liken you, my darling, to a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh.
Darling of darlings, to me you are like a mare prancing delicately in front of royalty, pulling along the chariot with a strength rivaled only by your loveliness.
10 Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings, your neck with strings of jewels.
Your face shines in between your earrings, your neck glistens inviting a lip’s kiss.
11 We will make you earrings of gold, studded with silver.
I feel like going out and buying you jewelry to adorn what is already adoring.
12 While the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance.
Whenever I sit across the table from “the king”, I want him to smell me, see me. I want my vibes to meet his nostrils, his eyes.
13 My lover is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts.
My love--this one across the table--is like the locket that hangs between my breasts, close to my heart. I feel it beat faster and faster as he presses in closer to me.
14 My lover is to me a cluster of henna blossoms from the vineyards of En Gedi.
He is like a bouquet of flowering blossoms from a vineyard, beautiful and sweet; his scent sets my heart to dancing.
15 How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes are doves.
You are beauty embodied, my jewel! More beautiful than words could ever express and paint into pictures! But the thing that I can’t stop thinking about and looking at are those eyes of yours. They put me into a trance, spellbound.
16 How handsome you are, my lover! Oh, how charming! And our bed is verdant.
You may think I’m to die for, but you are more dashing to me than any other man I’ve laid eyes on, baby! And it’s funny that you’re thinking about my eyes, because I can’t stop thinking about getting you in bed with me and setting the night to music.
17 The beams of our house are cedars; our rafters are firs.
When you talk of our bedroom it makes me wonder about where we will live and what kind of house I should build for you, for us. I’m going to take care of you, my beloved. Don’t ever forget that.