11 Your lips, my bride, drip like the honeycomb.Honey and milk are under your tongue.The smell of your garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
12 A locked up garden is my sister, my bride;a locked up spring,a sealed fountain.
13 Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits:henna with spikenard plants,
14 spikenard and saffron,calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree;myrrh and aloes, with all the best spices,
15 a fountain of gardens,a well of living waters,flowing streams from Lebanon.
16 Awake, north wind; and come, you south!Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out.Let my beloved come into his garden,and taste his precious fruits.