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>O you are fair, my friend, O you are fair. Your eyes are doves through the screen of your tresses. Your hair is like a herd of goats that have swept down from Mount Gilead.
>Your teeth like a flock of matched ewes that have come up from the washing, all of them alike, and none has lost its young.
>Like a scarlet thread, your lips, and your tongue— desire. Like cut pomegranate your cheekbones through the screen of your tresses.
>Like the tower of David your neck built gloriously. A thousand shields are hung on it, all the warriors’ bucklers.
>Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, that graze among the lilies.
What if Song of Songs is actually a 16th century parody of Petrarchan love poetry?
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>>9831450
>How beautiful art thou, my love, how beautiful art thou! thy eyes are doves' eyes, besides what is hid within. Thy hair is as flocks of goats, which Come up from mount Galaad.
>Thy teeth as flocks of sheep, that are shorn which come up from the washing, all with twins, and there is none barren among them.
>Thy lips are as a scarlet lace: and thy speech sweet. Thy cheeks are as a piece of a pomegranate, besides that which lieth hid within.
>Thy neck, is as the tower of David, which is built with bulwarks: a thousand bucklers hang upon it, all the armour of valiant men.
>Thy two breasts like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
your translation is a desecration of art and whoever did it should be hanged
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