The wine goes down smoothly for my beloved, Moving gently the lips of sleepers.
I am my beloved’s, And his desire is toward me.
Come, my beloved, Let us go forth to the field; Let us lodge in the villages.
Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see if the vine has budded, Whether the grape blossoms are open, And the pomegranates are in bloom. There I will give you my love.
The mandrakes give off a fragrance, And at our gates are pleasant fruits, All manner, new and old, Which I have laid up for you, my beloved.