Song of Songs · Chapter 4
Peshitta OT
16 verses
1
ܗܐ ܫܦܝܪܬܝ̈ ܩܪܝܒܬܝ̈ ܗܐ ܫܦܝܪܬܝ ܥܝܢ̈ܝܟܝ ܕܝܘܢܐ ܠܒܪ ܡܢ ܫܬܩܟܝ ܣܥܪܟܝ ܐܝܟ ܓܙܪܐ ܕܥ̈ܙܐ ܕܣܠܩ ܡܢ ܛܘܪܐ ܕܓܠܥܕ
dgled Twr' mn dslq dez' gzr' 'yk serky shthqky mn lbr dywn' eynyky shpyrthy h' qrybthy shpyrthy h'
Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are like doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, that descend from Mount Gilead.
2
ܫܢܝ̈ܟܝ ܐܝܟ ܓܙܪܐ ܕܓܙܝ̈ܙܬܐ ܕܣܠܩ ܡܢ ܡܣܚܘܬܐ ܕܟܠܗܝܢ ܡܬܐ̈ܡܢ ܘܕܡܓܙܝܐ ܠܝܬ ܒܗܝܢ
bhyn lyth wdmgzy' mth'mn dklhyn mskhwth' mn dslq dgzyzth' gzr' 'yk shnyky
Your teeth are like a newly shorn flock, which have come up from the washing, where every one of them has twins. None is bereaved among them.
3
ܐܝܟ ܚܘܛܐ ܕܙܚܘܪܝܬܐ ܣ̈ܦܘܬܟܝ ܘܡܡܠܠܟܝ ܝܐܐ ܐܝܟ ܨܠܦܐ ܕܪܘܡܢܐ ܩܕܠܟܝ ܡܛܠ ܫܬܩܟܝ
shthqky mTl qdlky drwmn' tslp' 'yk y'' wmmllky spwthky dzkhwryth' khwT' 'yk
Your lips are like scarlet thread. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.
4
ܐܝܟ ܡܓܕܠܗ ܕܕܘܝܕ ܨܘܪܟܝ ܒܢܐ ܒܬ̈ܟܐ ܐܠܦ ܣܟܪ̈ܝܢ ܬ̈ܠܝܢ ܥܠܘܗܝ ܟܠ ܫ̈ܠܛܐ ܕܓܢܒܪ̈ܐ
dgnbr' shlT' kl elwhy thlyn skryn 'lp bthk' bn' tswrky ddwyd mgdlh 'yk
Your neck is like David’s tower built for an armory, on which a thousand shields hang, all the shields of the mighty men.
5
ܬܪ̈ܝܢ ܬܕܝ̈ܟܝ ܐܝܟ ܬܪ̈ܝܢ ܥܘܙܝ̈ܠܐ ܬܐ̈ܡܐ ܕܛܒܝ̈ܐ ܕܪܥܝܢ ܒܫ̈ܘܫܢܐ
bshwshn' dreyn dTby' th'm' ewzyl' thryn 'yk thdyky thryn
Your two breasts are like two fawns that are twins of a roe, which feed among the lilies.
6
ܥܕ ܢܦܘܓ ܝܘܡܐ ܘܢܪܟܢܘܢ ܛ̈ܠܠܐ ܙܠ ܠܛܘܪ̈ܐ ܕܡܘܪܐ ܘܠܪ̈ܡܬܐ ܕܠܒܘܢܬܐ
dlbwnth' wlrmth' dmwr' lTwr' zl Tll' wnrknwn ywm' npwg ed
Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of frankincense.
7
ܟܠܟܝ ܫܦܝܪܬܝ ܩܪܝܒܬܝ̈ ܘܡܘܡܐ ܠܝܬ ܒܟܝ
bky lyth wmwm' qrybthy shpyrthy klky
You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.
8
ܬܝ ܡܢ ܠܒܢܢ ܟܠܬܐ ܬܝ ܡܢ ܠܒܢܢ ܬܐܬܝܢ ܘܬܥܒܪܝܢ ܡܢ ܪܝܫ ܐ̈ܡܢܐ ܘܡܢ ܪܝܫ ܣܢܝܪ ܘܚܪܡܘܢ ܡܢ ܡܪܒܘܥܝܬܐ ܕܐܪ̈ܝܘܬܐ ܘܡܢ ܛܘܪ̈ܝ ܢܡܪ̈ܐ
nmr' Twry wmn d'rywth' mrbweyth' mn wkhrmwn snyr rysh wmn 'mn' rysh mn wthebryn th'thyn lbnn mn thy klth' lbnn mn thy
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon. Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir and Hermon, from the lions’ dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
9
ܠܒܒܬܝܢܝ ܚܬܝ ܟܠܬܐ ܠܒܒܬܝܢܝ ܒܚܕܐ ܡܢ ܥܝܢ̈ܝܟܝ ܒܚܕ ܥܩܐ ܡܢ ܨܘܪܟܝ
tswrky mn eq' bkhd eynyky mn bkhd' lbbthyny klth' khthy lbbthyny
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride. You have ravished my heart with one of your eyes, with one chain of your neck.
10
ܡܐ ܫܦܝܪ̈ܝܢ ܬܕܝ̈ܟܝ ܚܬܝ ܟܠܬܐ ܡܐ ܫܦܝܪ̈ܝܢ ܬܕܝ̈ܟܝ ܡܢ ܚܡܪܐ ܘܪܝܚ ܒܣܡܢܝ̈ܟܝ ܡܢ ܟܘܠ ܒܣܡ̈ܢܝܢ
bsmnyn kwl mn bsmnyky wrykh khmr' mn thdyky shpyryn m' klth' khthy thdyky shpyryn m'
How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine, the fragrance of your perfumes than all kinds of spices!
11
ܟܟܪܝܬܐ ܡ̈ܛܦܢ ܣ̈ܦܘܬܟܝ ܟܠ ܕܒܫܐ ܘܚܠܒܐ ܬܚܝܬ ܣ̈ܦܘܬܟܝ ܘܪܝܚ ܬܟܣܝܬܟܝ ܐܝܟ ܪܝܚ ܠܒܢܢ
lbnn rykh 'yk thksythky wrykh spwthky thkhyth wkhlb' dbsh' kl spwthky mTpn kkryth'
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
ܓܢܬܐ ܕܐܚܝܕܐ ܚܬܝ ܟܠܬܐ ܓܢܬܐ ܕܐܚܝܕܐ ܡܥܝܢܐ ܕܚܬܝܡܐ
dkhthym' meyn' d'khyd' gnth' klth' khthy d'khyd' gnth'
My sister, my bride, is a locked up garden; a locked up spring, a sealed fountain.
13
ܫܠܝܚܘܬܟܝ ܦܪܕܝܣܐ ܕܪ̈ܘܡܢܐ ܥܡ ܦܐܪ̈ܐ ܕܐ̈ܒܢܐ ܟܘܦܪܐ ܥܡ ܢܪܕܘܢ
nrdwn em kwpr' d'bn' p'r' em drwmn' prdys' shlykhwthky
Your shoots are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, henna with spikenard plants,
14
ܢܪܕܘܢ ܘܟܘܪܟܡܐ ܩܢܝܐ ܘܩܘܢܡܘܢ ܥܡ ܩܝܣܐ ܕܠܒܘܢܬܐ ܡܘܪܐ ܘܥܠܘܝ ܥܡ ܟܠ ܪܝܫ ܒܣ̈ܡܢܐ
bsmn' rysh kl em welwy mwr' dlbwnth' qys' em wqwnmwn qny' wkwrkm' nrdwn
spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree; myrrh and aloes, with all the best spices,
15
ܡܥܝܢܐ ܕܓܢ̈ܐ ܒܪܐ ܕܡ̈ܝܐ ܚ̈ܝܐ ܕܪ̈ܕܝܢ ܡܢ ܠܒܢܢ
lbnn mn drdyn khy' dmy' br' dgn' meyn'
a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, flowing streams from Lebanon.
16
ܐܬܥܝܪܝ ܓܪܒܝܐ ܘܬܝ ܬܝܡܢܐ ܫܒܝ ܒܓܢܬܝ ܢܪܕܘܢ ܒܣ̈ܡܢܝ ܘܢܐܬܐ ܕܕܝ ܠܓܢܬܗ ܘܢܐܟܘܠ ܡܢ ܦܐܪ̈ܐ ܕܐ̈ܒܒܢܘܗܝ
d'bbnwhy p'r' mn wn'kwl lgnthh ddy wn'th' bsmny nrdwn bgnthy shby thymn' wthy grby' 'theyry
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.