The Song of Songs, Chapter 5שיר השירים 5

בָּ֣אתִי לְגַנִּי֮ אֲחֹתִ֣י כַלָּה֒ אָרִ֤יתִי מוֹרִי֙ עִם בְּשָׂמִ֔י אָכַ֤לְתִּי יַעְרִי֙ עִם דִּבְשִׁ֔י שָׁתִ֥יתִי יֵינִ֖י עִם חֲלָבִ֑י אִכְל֣וּ רֵעִ֔ים שְׁת֥וּ וְשִׁכְר֖וּ דּוֹדִֽים

I am come into my garden, my sister, spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.

אֲנִ֥י יְשֵׁנָ֖ה וְלִבִּ֣י עֵ֑ר ק֣וֹל דּוֹדִ֣י דוֹפֵ֗ק פִּתְחִי לִ֞י אֲחֹתִ֤י רַעְיָתִי֙ יוֹנָתִ֣י תַמָּתִ֔י שֶׁרֹּאשִׁי֙ נִמְלָא טָ֔ל קְוֻּצּוֹתַ֖י רְסִ֥יסֵי לָֽיְלָה

I sleep, but my heart waketh: the voice of my beloved that knocketh, , Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.

פָּשַׁ֨טְתִּי֙ אֶת כֻּתָּנְתִּ֔י אֵיכָ֖כָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁ֑נָּה רָחַ֥צְתִּי אֶת רַגְלַ֖י אֵיכָ֥כָה אֲטַנְּפֵֽם

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

דּוֹדִ֗י שָׁלַ֤ח יָדוֹ֙ מִן הַחֹ֔ר וּמֵעַ֖י הָמ֥וּ עָלָֽיו

My beloved put in his hand by the hole , and my bowels were moved for him.

קַ֥מְתִּֽי אֲנִ֖י לִפְתֹּ֣חַ לְדוֹדִ֑י וְיָדַ֣י נָֽטְפוּ מ֗וֹר וְאֶצְבְּעֹתַי֙ מ֣וֹר עֹבֵ֔ר עַ֖ל כַּפּ֥וֹת הַמַּנְעֽוּל

I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped myrrh, and my fingers sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

פָּתַ֤חְתִּֽי אֲנִי֙ לְדוֹדִ֔י וְדוֹדִ֖י חָמַ֣ק עָבָ֑ר נַפְשִׁי֙ יָֽצְאָ֣ה בְדַבְּר֔וֹ בִּקַּשְׁתִּ֨יהוּ֙ וְלֹ֣א מְצָאתִ֔יהוּ קְרָאתִ֖יו וְלֹ֥א עָנָֽנִי

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

מְצָאֻ֧נִי הַשֹּׁמְרִ֛ים הַסֹּבְבִ֥ים בָּעִ֖יר הִכּ֣וּנִי פְצָע֑וּנִי נָשְׂא֤וּ אֶת רְדִידִי֙ מֵֽעָלַ֔י שֹׁמְרֵ֖י הַחֹמֽוֹת

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

הִשְׁבַּ֥עְתִּי אֶתְכֶ֖ם בְּנ֣וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָ֑ם אִֽם תִּמְצְאוּ֙ אֶת דּוֹדִ֔י מַה תַּגִּ֣ידוּ ל֔וֹ שֶׁחוֹלַ֥ת אַהֲבָ֖ה אָֽנִי

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him, that I sick of love.

מַה דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד הַיָּפָ֖ה בַּנָּשִׁ֑ים מַה דּוֹדֵ֣ךְ מִדּ֔וֹד שֶׁכָּ֖כָה הִשְׁבַּעְתָּֽנוּ

What your beloved more than beloved, O you fairest among women? what your beloved more than beloved, that you dost so charge us?

דּוֹדִ֥י צַח֙ וְאָד֔וֹם דָּג֖וּל מֵרְבָבָֽה

My beloved white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

רֹאשׁ֖וֹ כֶּ֣תֶם פָּ֑ז קְוּצּוֹתָיו֙ תַּלְתַּלִּ֔ים שְׁחֹר֖וֹת כָּעוֹרֵֽב

His head the most fine gold, his locks bushy, black as a raven.

עֵינָ֕יו כְּיוֹנִ֖ים עַל אֲפִ֣יקֵי מָ֑יִם רֹֽחֲצוֹת֙ בֶּֽחָלָ֔ב יֹשְׁב֖וֹת עַל מִלֵּֽאת

His eyes as of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, fitly set.

לְחָיָו֙ כַּעֲרוּגַ֣ת הַבֹּ֔שֶׂם מִגְדְּל֖וֹת מֶרְקָחִ֑ים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו֙ שֽׁוֹשַׁנִּ֔ים נֹטְפ֖וֹת מ֥וֹר עֹבֵֽר

His cheeks as a bed of spices, sweet flowers: his lips lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

יָדָיו֙ גְּלִילֵ֣י זָהָ֔ב מְמֻלָּאִ֖ים בַּתַּרְשִׁ֑ישׁ מֵעָיו֙ עֶ֣שֶׁת שֵׁ֔ן מְעֻלֶּ֖פֶת סַפִּירִֽים

His hands gold rings set with the beryl: his belly bright ivory overlaid sapphires.

שׁוֹקָיו֙ עַמּ֣וּדֵי שֵׁ֔שׁ מְיֻסָּדִ֖ים עַל אַדְנֵי פָ֑ז מַרְאֵ֨הוּ֙ כַּלְּבָנ֔וֹן בָּח֖וּר כָּאֲרָזִֽים

His legs pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

חִכּוֹ֙ מַֽמְתַקִּ֔ים וְכֻלּ֖וֹ מַחֲּמַדִּ֑ים זֶ֤ה דוֹדִי֙ וְזֶ֣ה רֵעִ֔י בְּנ֖וֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָֽם

His mouth most sweet: yea, he altogether lovely. This my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.