Her hair is like a flock of goats, her teeth like shorn ewes, and so on from face to breasts. He hastens to summon his beloved, saying that he is ravished by even a single glance. The section becomes a "garden poem", in which he describes her as a "locked garden" usually taken to mean that she is chaste.
THE SONG OF SONGS
The woman invites the man to enter the garden and taste the fruits. The man accepts the invitation, and a third party tells them to eat, drink, "and be drunk with love". The woman tells the daughters of Jerusalem of another dream. She was in her chamber when her lover knocked. She was slow to open, and when she did, he was gone. She searched through the streets again, but this time she failed to find him and the watchmen, who had helped her before, now beat her. She asks the daughters of Jerusalem to help her find him, and describes his physical good looks.
Eventually, she admits her lover is in his garden, safe from harm, and committed to her as she is to him. The man describes his beloved; the woman describes a rendezvous they have shared. The last part is unclear and possibly corrupted. The people praise the beauty of the woman. The images are the same as those used elsewhere in the poem, but with an unusually dense use of place-names, e.
Song of Songs 4
The man states his intention to enjoy the fruits of the woman's garden. The woman invites him to a tryst in the fields. She once more warns the daughters of Jerusalem against waking love until it is ready. The woman compares love to death and sheol: She summons her lover, using the language used before: The Song offers no clue to its author or to the date, place, or circumstances of its composition.
Aramaic gradually replaced Hebrew after the end of the Babylonian exile in the late 6th century BCE, and the evidence of vocabulary, morphology , idiom and syntax clearly points to a late date, centuries after King Solomon to whom it is traditionally attributed. Debate continues on the unity or disunity of the Song.
Those who see it as an anthology or collection point to the abrupt shifts of scene, speaker, subject matter and mood, and the lack of obvious structure or narrative.
Those who hold it to be a single poem point out that it has no internal signs of composite origins, and view the repetitions and similarities among its parts as evidence of unity. Some claim to find a conscious artistic design underlying it, but there is no agreement among them on what this might be. The question therefore remains unresolved. The setting in which the poem arose is also debated. The Song was accepted into the Jewish canon of scripture in the 2nd century CE, after a period of controversy in the 1st century.
My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock. My heart went out when he spoke. The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me. How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us? The best among ten thousand. His hair is bushy, black as a raven. His lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh. His body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires. His appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
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- THE SONG OF SONGS!
Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you? He browses among the lilies, 4 You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners. Your hair is like a flock of goats, that lie along the side of Gilead. She is the favorite one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; the queens and the concubines, and they praised her. Friends 13 Return, return, Shulammite! Return, return, that we may gaze at you.
Lover Why do you desire to gaze at the Shulammite, as at the dance of Mahanaim? Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a skillful workman.
Your waist is like a heap of wheat, set about with lilies. Your eyes are like the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bathrabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon which looks toward Damascus. The hair of your head like purple. The king is held captive in its tresses. I will take hold of its fruit. His desire is toward me. Let us lodge in the villages.
There I will give you my love. At our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, new and old, which I have stored up for you, my beloved. If I found you outside, I would kiss you; yes, and no one would despise me. I would have you drink spiced wine, of the juice of my pomegranate. His right hand would embrace me.
THE SONG OF SONGS
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