Gledhill’s free paraphrase is a loose interpretation intended to convey the atmosphere of the poem, expanding metaphors and imagery into accessible English verse. Where the original text is clear, he stays close to a literal rendering; where ambiguity is present, he preserves it.

Title and attribution#

^1:1 The most beautiful of Solomon’s songs.

The first cycle: Passionate longings (1:2–2:7)#

The deep yearnings of love (1:2–4)#

² O to feel the deepness of the kisses of your mouth! Your gentle touch intoxicates, your fondling strokes inflame, a heady wine more potent than any ancient vintage.

³ The aroma of your presence, the fresh fragrance of your name, a wafted scent, a perfume sweet, to shed abroad your fame. With such a reputation you are bathed in admiration, by the virgin city maidens who are eager for your love.

⁴ My darling, take me with you. Quick, make haste, let’s run. My royal king has drawn me to his inner private sanctum, the haven for our love.

How we exult in you! The memory of your fragrant love shall never fade away. The mellowness of smooth mulled wine, lingering long, and there to stay.

Black and beautiful (1:5–6)#

⁵ Sun-scorched am I, and stunning! O city maidens, pale creations of cosmetic creams. But as for me, with darkness deep do I with lustre shine, the warm black depth of distant nomad tents, of Solomon’s dusky shades.

⁶ Stare not at me, so deeply dark, avert your hostile glare. The sun, her fiery gaze has cast on me and burnt me with her heat. My brothers’ anger also flared, they took me, all, to task and made me labour in the sun to cultivate their vineyards, their trellises to mend.

Alas! Alas! That luscious vine, uniquely mine, I’ve had no time to tend.

A hesitant enquiry, an ambiguous response (1:7–8)#

⁷ O where shall I find you, my shepherd love? Where do you graze, where lay to rest, amidst the haze of noonday’s heat?

Tell me! Tell me! Lest I should wander in futile search, appear to loiter, my name besmirch, ‘mongst your companions, with their flocks.

⁸ Don’t ask me that, most beautiful one. Surely you know the place of my true pasture. Bring your own kids, and follow the tracks. There you will find me by the shepherds’ own shelters, and no-one will know that you’ve come just for me.

A filly in fine fettle (1:9–11)#

⁹ A mare magnificently groomed, a filly in fine fettle. Sporting midst lusty stallions of Egypt’s royal chariots. Entrancing in allure with secret pulse of naked power so thinly veiled, your flawless flanks enhanced in flowing ribbons.

¹⁰ How beautiful! Your cheek’s smooth curves enframed by rings of brazen bangles, which dangle down by slender tower, by neck bedecked by beads.

¹¹ We’ll crown you with more royalty. O maiden queen, with costly gems, with rings of golden sheen and sparkling spikes of silver.

The fragrance of love (1:12–14)#

¹² My king spreadeagled sprawls at ease upon his sofa, enwrapped in mists from scented shawls enveloped by their aura.

¹³ A pendant pouch of myrrh to me, at night he lies between my breasts.

¹⁴ A spray of henna blossom, he, upon my fragrant vineyard, the oasis of En Gedi.

A duet of mutual admiration (1:15–2:3)#

¹⁵ How beautiful you are, my precious one, your shy coy glances, their gentle invitations give, your eyes a pair of fluttering doves.

¹⁶ Indeed delightful are you, my lover, handsome, above all others. On nature’s verdant litter, there we lie, we rest on greeny sward, in Eden’s secret glade, enwrapped in nature’s close embrace, a bower of never failing foliage, a canopy of firs.

^2:1 What draws your eye to gaze alone full focus just on me? On me, a common daisy, blooming midst myriads by the river’s brim?

² Not so, not so, my daisy dear, O rare exotic flower, a stately stem in radiant bloom, so dazzling in your bower amidst the dark of nature’s thorny thicket, of bramble and of briar.

³ A luscious lime, a citrus tree, a source of sweet refreshment he, an island in the dryness of the wild and tangled wood. Sheltered in his shade, I rest relaxed, secure. The sweetness of his tasty fruit, the object of desire.

Moving to a climax (2:4–7)#

I have tasted of his wine, ⁴ He has brought me to his cellar, his glance toward me heavy with the urgency of love. His desire, his intent, with one purpose is bent, our love to fulfil.

⁵ O spread me out, and bed me down in rugs of raisin cakes, and beds of golden apples.

Come now, come soon — I faint, I swoon, so eager to consume, the fruit of our desire.

⁶ I rest within his encircled arm his hand my contours strokes.

⁷ O daughters of Jerusalem, I put you under oath, swear to me, by wild gazelles and antelopes, by our ancestral deity, by our covenant God, do not disturb us, until we have drunk our fill of love.

The second cycle: Springtime and showers (2:8–3:5)#

Love in the springtime (2:8–13)#

⁸ Hark! His voice! I hear him coming! It’s my beloved. Leaping sprightly o’er hill and dale, effortlessly agile, eager, alert, ⁹ a dashing gazelle.

He’s here! At our very wall! Peeping in at the window, looking through the lattice, whispering his urgent summons:

¹⁰ Quick! Quick! Let’s hurry my love, Away at nature’s bidding.

¹¹ The winter rains, so drab and drear are past, and long forgotten. ¹² For nature now, with pent up power bursts forth with grand effusion; Her blossoms blooming, the doves are cooing, ¹³ in concert wooing, a seductive invitation.

A tantalizing tease (2:14–15)#

¹⁴ My shy little dove, so soft, so gentle so quick to fly away, so out of reach, untouchable, in nature’s craggy cliffs, remote ravines. Let me come near that I might hear the softness of your soothing tones. O please don’t flee that I might see the smoothness of your shapely form in nature’s hidden places.

¹⁵ Watch out! Watch out! My eager lover boy! There are other frisky foxes on the prowl, wanton in their playful frolics raiding vineyards, causing havoc. Eager in their haste, to taste the ripening grape of my own vine.

An affirmation and an invitation (2:16–17)#

¹⁶ In strong embrace of mutual love so tightly held, so safe, secure. O he is mine and I am his, who gently feeds and pastures in meadows of my fragrant flowers.

¹⁷ Until the gleam of nature’s morn, until the early hours of dawn, when sun’s first ray does chase away the shadows of the night, turn my love. And there cavort and spring and sport, a young gazelle o’er hill and fell, upon the valleys and the peaks of nature’s rolling contours.

A very troubled dream (3:1–5)#

^3:1 Throughout the long and lonesome nights, for restless hours I lay awake with empty ache, tossing, turning, consumed with yearning for my absent lover. Seeking, seeking, his presence pining, seeking, seeking, but never finding. Enshrouded by his absence.

² With urgent desperation, into the hostile night, I threw myself, exposed, to search the silent city.

Her empty streets and squares echoed with his absence.

³ Darting hither, darting thither I met the stolid watchmen on patrol, guardians of the sleeping city — I asked about my lover dear.

The full free paraphrase continues through the third and fourth cycles. For those passages — the royal wedding (3:6–5:1) and lost-and-found (5:2–6:3) — refer to Gledhill’s printed text or the literal translation for the corresponding verse references. The fifth and sixth cycle paraphrase resumes below.

The fifth cycle: Beauty kindles desire (6:4–8:4)#

Her awesome and terrifying beauty (6:4–7)#

⁴ Fair you are, my dear, my lovely garden city, Mount Pleasant, Tirzah in her olden days resting on her sunny slopes a radiant crown of beauty.

In regal power and stature in majesty so high, as awesome is your presence, as Salem’s ancient city, a rock of peace, secure and wholesome, the foundation of well-being.

Awesome as the cosmic crown, the canopy of night, beneath whose starry wreath we stand and gaze in solemn awe, agape at nature’s marvel.

⁵ Avert your tantalizing eyes, your gaze which threatens danger. Your awesome beauty has the power to churn the depths of deep desire, to light the fire of yearning strong that drains me of all strength. A helpless victim I am left, a slave at beauty’s mercy, weak captive of magnificence. Your glistening hair, its glossy locks, your motion whirls their glowing curls, they twist and turn with dancing undulation, the distant flocks of flowing goats which ripple down the verdant slopes.

⁶ Your fresh white teeth, so clean and smooth like skin of sheep, so closely cropped and washed and bleached, each with matching set of twins, gleaming in perfect symmetry, and none without its partner.

⁷ Your veil’s fine web of tracery, its gossamer of lace, their soft fine shadow cast upon the contours of your face.

She is utterly unique (6:8–9)#

⁸ Amidst a glittering galaxy of countless shining stars, the myriads of choice maidens, voluptuous virgins all, the scores of stunning models, bevies of beauty queens, dozens of radiant royals, and dusky damsels many.

⁹ But one alone, unique she stands without compare amidst them all, my precious flawless dove is she, the special pride of mother’s love.

Her cosmic beauty (6:10)#

¹⁰ Behold her awesome beauty, see she rivals nature’s glory. Her breaking forth comes as the dawn serene and stately in the morn. Sun’s first cold rays, the gilded mountains splay, a harbinger of promise, of rising expectation.

Her beauty pale, as moon on high, shines against the blackness of the night, the lunar disc whose white reflecting light by wisps of scudding cloud is veiled, beyond the reach of mortal man entrancingly untouchable, in ethereal isolation.

Her glory as the blazing sun on high magnificent in splendour. Her dazzling radiance shines forth, her presence giving life.

Dreaming in the walnut garden (6:11–12)#

¹¹ I wandered down in trance-like daze to see the watered valley. In solitude I sallied forth to browse amongst the budding vines. I dallied by the leafy trees, the almond blossom in the breeze, and gave myself to reverie. ¹² When all at once, I know not how, with O what transport of delight, I found myself placed at his side, my royal prince, my valiant knight, in chariot’s proud procession.

A sight for tired eyes (6:13)#

¹³ Come back! Come back! O Shulammite, O Perfect One! Our hungry eyes, your breathless beauty prize. A sight to stop and make us turn, and gaze, and sigh.

What right to strip me with your stares, as if a dancing girl who twists and whirls to entertain the troops, by sensual swirls entranced?

Her graceful form (7:1–5)#

^7:1 O noble daughter, how beautiful your dainty steps, your soles in slender sandals strapped. Your thigh’s smooth curves exquisitely turned, as if by craftsman’s skill.

² Your secret centre a rounded cup of spiced wine a source of so much pleasure.

Your smooth curved stomach, a mound of tawny wheat, hedged in by fragrant flowers.

³ Your shy twin breasts two timid fawns to touch and stroke so tender and so gentle.

⁴ Your smooth pale neck, erect, a tower of ivory tall.

Your eyes so cool, so calm, deep reservoirs of stillness are, stone cisterns, cold, profound, a haven of tranquillity, O noble daughter.

⁵ Your crowning head adorns you in wondrous majesty, like Carmel’s crimson headland, jutting out to sea. Your flowing locks, so black, with purple sheen and oily lustre gleam. A royal queen!

How are the mighty fallen! My fearsome warrior king brought low, hemmed in, entrapped by trailing tresses.

A duet of desire (7:6–10)#

⁶ How beautiful! How captivating! My delectable maiden!

⁷ O tall and stately lady, so slender and so slim, a gracious supple palm you are so calm in nature’s sweet allure, such teasing inaccessibility, aloof, serene.

Your breasts so soft, so gentle, so full with promise, clusters of the tender vine, O to be mine, their fruit to taste.

⁸ Methinks with resolution strong, to climb the tree, its trunk to scale and hold her leafy fronds, to take her slender form, her glistening locks caress.

⁹ The taste and motion of your mouth, the smoothness of your silken kisses, be as the languid flow of vintage wine o’er sweet and liquid lips.

¹⁰ It’s me, it’s me, it’s me he longs for, his passion is for me.

Love in the countryside (7:11–13)#

¹¹ Come my lover, quick, let’s flee away to countryside so fresh and in her soft embrace be folded. Let’s spend the night in scented shrubs and gaze upon the stars above.

¹² Away, away, at rising sun, at day’s pale morn to watch the dawn of nature’s grand eruption.

¹³ With ardour’s pent up passions, by ancient roots aroused, with eager love I’ll give myself, I’ll share with you my secret store in awe and expectation held and hallowed long, a den of new delights.

A longing for intimacy (8:1–4)#

^8:1 O for the freedom of kinship familiar, then would I kiss you with open abandon, with no disapproval from many cold stares.

² Then would I lead you in intimate tenderness to the house of my mother, the home of conception, my darling, my brother.

The delights of our love are so private to nurture, teach me to love you, your secrets to give me.

³ I rest in his encircling arm, his hand my contours strokes.

⁴ O daughters of Jerusalem, I put you under oath, swear to me, do not disturb us until we have drunk our fill.

The sixth cycle: The security of love (8:5–14)#

The happy couple (8:5)#

⁵ Here she comes in rustic freshness wreathed. Upon his arm she comes from desert grazing grounds afar, so shyly presenting for eager approval her young country lad.

Love’s arousal (8:5)#

Underneath the fruit tree’s bowers, heavy, ripe with golden showers, ’neath the shades of family tree, branches of maternal pedigree, there I stirred your sleeping form, where your mother brought new birth in agony of ecstasy writhing.

Love, strong as death (8:6–7)#

⁶ Emblazoned on your arm, parade me, the public seal of secret love for all the world to see, the sign of mutual love, of access to your intimacy. O love, like death remorseless in your grip of power. Your victims, helpless borne, in passions churn, smitten by your fiery darts with holy conflagration burn. Your hollowed hunger, like Sheol’s shades, is ne’er assuaged.

⁷ No thundering waters of nature’s primal myth, no cosmic chaos in her ceaseless motion its flame can ever quench. No overflowing torrents, no flashing floods can sweep away her overwhelming potion.

Away false wealth! No silver, fruit of toilsome labour long, of many years a hoard, can e’er have power to purchase love’s freely given gift. Away false love! Beneath contempt your mercenary mind of base intent.

The little sister (8:8–10)#

⁸ We have a young sister her bosom not yet budded, so what shall we do and how to present her, when she starts getting noticed, when she’s ripening for love?

⁹ If she’s a wall, so plain yet so pure, we’ll adorn her with turrets, with towers of silver.

But if she’s a door, too anxious to please, too free with her favours, we’ll protect her with panels, with partitions of pine.

¹⁰ But I am a wall, my defence is impregnable, resisting invaders. My breasts are like towers, firm and assertive, erect and protruding.

Such is my posture, such is my poise, in him I can foster contentment and ease, a source of well being, of succour and strength.

A vineyard not for hire (8:11–12)#

¹¹ Look at Solomon, Lord Luxury’s estate — wealthville unlimited, acres of vineyards, vines without number, virgin vines and queenly concubines.

He let out his land for others to farm, for silver he lusted to trade in the vine. But that is a fate that cannot be mine.

¹² My very own vineyard is not up for sale. I cannot be hired, I cannot be sold. But to him whom I love I freely dispose of my favours and fruit; they are his for the tasting, my beloved’s alone.

Begone, wretched lecher, seducer of old, your silver, take with you, o’er me it’s no hold.

The continuing cycle of desire (8:13–14)#

¹³ My gracious one, all glorious in flower, radiant in public display, in rapt attention held, surrounding suitors straining on your every word;

O, to hear your voice, your private plea to me alone:

¹⁴ “Flee! Flee! Bolt away to the secret grove, there to sport, there we’ll cavort. Spring like a stag o’er the hills and the valleys the clefts and the crannies, the fragrant contours of the smooth rolling slopes.”