Spikenard and saffron; groom my soul, Calamus and cinnamon, invite the senses. With all trees of frankincense; preparing the way, Myrrh and aloes, the hundred pound wieght. With all the chief spices: ready for your tomb.
Thy plants are green and lush, An orchard of pomegranates, full and ripe. With pleasant fruits for my soul; Camphire, sends forth its scent, With spikenard, preparing the way to you.
A garden inclosed is my closet, My sister, my spouse; encourage my hand. A spring shut up is my Bible, A fountain sealed, revelation complete.
Thy lips speak of dark things, sometimes. O my spouse, comfort me; Drop as the honeycomb into my soul. Honey and milk are your pleasant words, Under thy tongue lay wisdom; And the smell of a quiet morning. Thy garments are filled with harmony, A scent which is Like the smell of Lebanon.