בָּאתִי לְגַנִּי אֲחֹתִי כַלָּה; אָרִיתִי מוֹרִי עִם־בְּשָׂמִי; אָכַלְתִּי יַעְרִי עִם־דִּבְשִׁי; שָׁתִיתִי יֵינִי עִם־חֲלָבִי – אִכְלוּ רֵעִים שְׁתוּ וְשִׁכְרוּ דּוֹדִים

I came to my garden, filled with all types of goodness, my sister, my bride; I gathered my myrrh with my perfume; I ate my honeycomb with my honey; I drank my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; drink, and make love. The image is of a romantic lovers’ tryst.

אֲנִי יְשֵׁנָה וְלִבִּי עֵר קוֹל דּוֹדִי דוֹפֵק פִּתְחִי־לִי אֲחֹתִי רַעְיָתִי יוֹנָתִי תַמָּתִי שֶׁרֹּאשִׁי נִמְלָא־טָל קְוֻצּוֹתַי רְסִיסֵי לָיְלָה

I am sleeping, but my heart is awake. In this semiconscious state, something inside me alerted me: The sound of my beloved is knocking.Despite my drowsiness, some part of me was alert, eagerly listening for him. I could hear him calling out to me: Open for me, my sister, my love, my faultless dove, my perfect beauty. There is a tone of familiarity and closeness in these expressions of affection by the male protagonist. He continues: Open for me, for my head is filled with dew from waiting outside at night; my locks are filled with the drops of night, dew. I am wet, it is uncomfortable outdoors, and I seek shelter.

פָּשַׁטְתִּי אֶת־כֻּתָּנְתִּי אֵיכָכָה אֶלְבָּשֶׁנָּה רָחַצְתִּי אֶת־רַגְלַי אֵיכָכָה אֲטַנְּפֵם

The woman says to herself: I have already taken off my tunic; how can I don it now? I have washed my feet before bed; how can I soil them by walking on the floor to open the door? She does not answer her beloved’s call.

דּוֹדִי שָׁלַח יָדוֹ מִן הַחוֹר וּמֵעַי הָמוּ עָלָיו

My beloved extended his hand through the hole in the door. When he did so, my love welled up and my core [me’ay] was moved for him, my insides turned over from excitement. Although in modern Hebrew the term me’ayim refers specifically to the intestines, in the Bible it refers to the internal cavity of one’s body, and by extension, to the heart and soul.

קַמְתִּי אֲנִי לִפְתֹּחַ לְדוֹדִי וְיָדַי נָטְפוּ־מוֹר וְאֶצְבְּעֹתַי מוֹר עֹבֵר עַל כַּפּוֹת הַמַּנְעוּל

I arose to open for my beloved; my perfumed hands were dripping with liquid myrrh, and my fingers with myrrh passing onto the handles of the latch. The scent of myrrh reached outside.

פָּתַחְתִּי אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי ודוֹדִי חָמַק עָבָר נַפְשִׁי יָצְאָה בְדַבְּרוֹ בִּקַּשְׁתִּיהוּ וְלֹא מְצָאתִיהוּ קְרָאתִיו וְלֹא עָנָנִי

I opened for my beloved; but while I had hesitated, my beloved had slipped away, was gone. My soul had departed with his speaking. When he turned to me before, my heart stopped due to my profound love and longing. Now he was nowhere to be found. I sought him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The verse possibly describes not an actual event, but a lover’s troubled dream brought on by anxiety over a potential missed opportunity. Allegorically, this episode refers to real missed opportunities for redemption, on both a national and a personal level. Historically and personally, complacency and other obstacles to salvation prevent the long-sought union with God from taking place.

מְצָאֻנִי הַשֹּׁמְרִים הַסֹּבְבִים בָּעִיר הִכּוּנִי פְצָעוּנִי נָשְׂאוּ אֶת־רְדִידִי מֵעָלַי שֹׁמְרֵי הַחֹמוֹת

After searching for my beloved near the house to no avail, I went out into the streets. There the sentries patrolling in the city found me, and when they saw that I was wandering alone at night they struck me, they wounded me; apparently, they considered me a loiterer deserving of punishment. The guards of the walls took my shawl from upon me. The guards of the walls are not necessarily her enemies. Since they are charged with preserving the public order, they punish the woman for what they perceive as inappropriate behavior. Similarly, the individual’s soul or the nation as a whole can react to a missed opportunity counterproductively. Plagued with visions of what might have been, it can attempt to seize the moment after it has passed, and in the process transgress boundaries. Such transgression always incurs punishment.

הִשְׁבַּעְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בְּנוֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָם אִם תִּמְצְאוּ אֶת־דּוֹדִי מַה־תַּגִּידוּ לוֹ שֶׁחוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי

Here, it seems, the dream comes to an end. Now the woman addresses her friends: I administer an oath to you, daughters of Jerusalem; now, come to my aid: If you find my beloved, what should you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick. Previously she bid the daughters of Jerusalem to promise that they would let the love awaken by itself (2:7, 3:5). Now, after the nocturnal episode, whether real or imagined, she no longer has the strength to hide her feelings or to keep up appearances. She entreats the daughters of Jerusalem to reveal her powerful love to her beloved.

מַה־דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים מַה־דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד שֶׁכָּכָה הִשְׁבַּעְתָּנוּ

The women ask her: How is your beloved more than another beloved, O fairest of women? Who is your beloved? How can we recognize him? How is your beloved more special than another beloved, that you administer an oath to us so? Notably, in The Song of Songs, the beloved is unknown. He appears intermittently and then vanishes, and no one can identify or locate him. In the background of the text hovers the question of how real the beloved actually is. For the time being, he has no formal relationship with the woman. They rarely meet, and at this stage of the story they are never seen together in public. Allegorically understood, the mysterious nature of the beloved represents the mysterious nature of God.

דּוֹדִי צַח וְאָדוֹם דָּגוּל מרְבָבָה

The young woman responds: The face of my beloved is clear and ruddy, his skin is clean and white, and his cheeks are red like a beautiful youth. This mixture of red and white is consistent with the image of an apple to which the beloved was previously compared (2:3). My beloved is more eminent [dagul] than ten thousand. Like a flag [degel], my beloved stands out from the masses, unique.

רֹאשׁוֹ כֶּתֶם פָּז קְוֻצּוֹתָיו תַּלְתַּלִּים שְׁחֹרוֹת כָּעוֹרֵב

His head is impressively shaped as a work of the finest gold; his locks are curls, black as a raven. In ancient times, the hair color of Israelites was typically black.

עֵינָיו כְּיוֹנִים עַל־אֲפִיקֵי מָיִם רֹחֲצוֹת בֶּחָלָב יֹשְׁבוֹת עַל־מִלֵּאת

His eyes are perfect, radiating beauty and calm, like doves beside streams of water. This is a pastoral image of grace and tranquility. A dove drinks by sucking water into its beak and directly into its throat, making no swallowing movement of its head. A pair of doves drinking thus appears to be in synchrony, as they change neither their stance nor their movements. His dark eyes are set against the backdrop of his light skin as if they are bathed in milk, well set like precious stones, neither protruding nor sunken.

לְחָיָו כַּעֲרוּגַת הַבֹּשֶׂם מִגְדְּלוֹת מֶרְקָחִים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו שׁוֹשַׁנִּים נֹטְפוֹת מוֹר עֹבֵר

His cheeks are like a bed of fragrant plants, growths of spice mixtures. An Israelite of the time would not be clean-shaven, and as the beloved is young, his beard is likely to be short, like small herbs growing in their beds. His lips are colored, or velvety and fragrant like lilies; dripping with flowing, fragrant myrrh.

יָדָיו גְלִילֵי זָהָב מְמֻלָּאִים בַּתַּרְשִׁישׁ מֵעָיו עֶשֶׁת שֵׁן מְעֻלֶּפֶת סַפִּירִים

His hands are built as rods of gold set with beryl [tarshish]; his belly is like a solid slab of ivory covered with sapphires.

שׁוֹקָיו עַמּוּדֵי שֵׁשׁ מְיֻסָּדִים עַל־אַדְנֵי־פָז מַרְאֵהוּ כַּלְּבָנוֹן בָּחוּר כָּאֲרָזִים

His calves are pillars of marble, set on bases of fine gold. The beloved is compared to a work of art. His appearance is like the forested region of Lebanon, fertile and teeming with life, choice like the tall, impressive cedars that grow there.

חִכּוֹ מַמְתַקִּים וְכֻלּוֹ מַחֲמַדִּים זֶה דוֹדִי וְזֶה רֵעִי בְּנוֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָם

His palate is sweet and all of him is delightful. This is my beloved, and this is my companion, daughters of Jerusalem. The bride lovingly depicts her beloved as the epitome of beauty. In her eyes, all of his features are wonderful and perfect. Her descriptions do not provide her listeners with practical details that might help them locate her beloved, but they illustrate her feelings for him. Many allegorical interpretations have been offered for these descriptions. The question: “How is your beloved more than another beloved”? (verse 9) has been posed to the nation of Israel for over two thousand years. The answer to this question is: You may not be able to see Him until He reveals Himself, but we can see that He is perfect, and we can do nothing other than seek Him everywhere.