The Canticle of canticles

Biblical text allotted to Solomon slightly adapted for the needs for the site Marco Polo.
Extracts borrowed from the version of the Bible of Jerusalem.
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Textes érotiques à lire comme la Bible se lit aussi.

CANTIQUE IV

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How beautiful you are, my beloved! How beautiful you are! Your eyes are doves, behind your veil; your hair like a herd of goats, undulating on the slopes of mount Galaad. Your teeth, a herd of ewes to be mowed which comes from the bath. Each one has its twin and none is deprived of it. Your lips, a wire of scarlet, and your speeches are charming. Your cheeks, some halves of grenades, behind your veil. Your neck, the tower of David, built in stairs. Thousand of rondaches are suspended there, every shields of the valiant knights. Your two bossoms are two fawns, twins of a gazelle, who feed among the lilies. Before the breathing of the breeze of the day and that shades flees away. I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of incense. You are all beautiful, my beloved, and without any mark! Come from Lebanon, O fiancée, come from Lebanon, make your entry. Lower your glances, from the summits of Amana, from the summits of Sanir and from the Hermon, den of the lions, mountain of the leopards. You make me loose my senses, my sister, O fiancée, you make me loose my senses by only one of your glances, by a ring of your collar! How your love charms me, O my sister, my sweet, my fiancée. How much your love is delicious, more than the wine! And the flavour of your perfumes, more than all the balsams! Your lips, O fiancée, distil the virgin honey. Honey and milk are under your lips; and the perfume of your flesh is like the perfume of Lebanon. She is a garden which blossoms, my sister, my fiancée; a garden well flowered, a source which overflows. Her jets are an orchard of pomegranate, overflowing of the most exquisite fruits: the nard and the saffron, the odorous reed and the cinnamome, like all these trees of incense; of myrrh and of aloes, filled with the finest flavours. Source of the gardens, wells of running water, streaming of Lebanon! Rise up, aquilon, run, as much! Blow out over my garden, that it distils for him its aromatics! Come my beloved, enters into my garden, and tastes its delicious fruits!

Marco Polo ou le voyage imaginaire (Interprétation de la Bible, 2000) © 2000 Marco Polo
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