Song 7:8 |Clusters

I said, in my desire
I will go up to the palm tree, 
She who is the elect lady.
I will take hold of the boughs thereof: 
Her beauty flourishing in his light.
Now also thy breasts, 
The comfort of her children
Shall be as clusters of the vine,
Ripe and sweet for the soul. 
And the smell of thy nose like apples;
Chosen with care by her gardener.