SongOfSongs chapter 6-7
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Where has your beloved gone? Most beautiful of women. Which way did you beloved turn that we may look for him with you? My beloved has gone down to his garden to the beds of spices, the browse in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine. He browses among the lilies. You're as beautiful as it turns on, my darling. As lovely as Jerusalem. As majestic as troops with banners. Turn your eyes from me. They overwhelmed me. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing. Each has its twin. Not one of them is missing your temples behind your veil or like the has of a pomegranate 60 queens there may be and 80 concubines and virgins beyond number. But my dove, my perfect one, is unique. The only daughter of her mother the favor of the one who bore her. The young women saw her and called her blessed the queens and concubines praised her. Who is this? That appears like the dawn fair Is the moon bright as the sun majestic as the stars in procession. I went down to the growth of nut trees to look at the new growth in the valley to see if the vines had butted or the pomegranates were in bloom. Before I realized that my desire set me among the royal chariots of my people. Come back, come back or shooting night. Come back, come back that we may gaze on you. Why would you gaze on? The shooter might as on the Dance of Maha. Nine. How beautiful your sandaled feet, O Prince's daughter. Your graceful legs are like jewels. The work of an artist, Sands. Your navel is a round goblet that never lacks blended wine. Your waist is amount of wheat encircled by Lily's. Your breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle. Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes are the pools of Hesh Bond by the gate of Bath. Rubbing your nose is like the tower of Lebanon. Looking towards Damascus. Your head crowns you like Mount Carmo. Your hair is like royal tapestry. The king is held captive by it stresses how beautiful you are and how pleasing my love with your delights, your stature is like that of the palm and your breasts like clusters of fruit, I said. I will climb the palm tree. I will take hold of its fruit. May your breast be like Hoster's of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath, like apples and your mouth like the best wine.