Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness,
is it not thee, thou fairest among women.

As the lily grows among the wilderness, so is my love of thee.
Thy lips are like scarlet and sweet as the honeycomb.

How fair is thy love, how much better is thy love 
than the smell of fine ointment and spices.

Who is she that looketh forth as the new morning, 
fair as the moon, clear as the sun. 

It is my love.