7 This stature of yours compares to a palm tree, And your breasts to clusters.
8 I said, “Let me go up to the palm tree, Let me take hold of its tips.” And please, let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of your breath like apples,
9 And your palate like the best wine, Going down smoothly for my beloved, Flowing gently, slumbering lips.
10 I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me.
11 Come, my beloved, let us go forth to the field; Let us stay in the villages.
12 Let us get up early to the vineyards; Let us see whether the vine has budded, The grape blossoms have opened, The pomegranates have bloomed. There I give you my loves.
13 The love-apples have given fragrance, And at our gates are all pleasant fruit, New and old, which I have laid up for you, my beloved.