Павел Суровой Song of Solomon 6 english

Where has your beloved gone,
O fairest one among them all?
Where did his wandering steps move on?
Come, let us seek him at your call.

My love has gone into his garden,
Where fragrant breezes softly breathe;
He tends his flocks among the valley,
And gathers lilies underneath.

I am his, and he is alone,
And she is mine for all my days;
He feeds his flock where flowers have grown,
Among the lilies' gentle grades.

You are as fair as Tirzah’s light,
As bright as Jerusalem above;
You are both storm and breath of life,
Like banners raised in war and love.

Turn your gaze away from me,
It shakes the silence of my soul;
Your hair flows down like flocks set free,
From Gilead’s dark, crawling knoll.

Your teeth are like a spotless flock,
That rise from waters, chaste and bright,
Each one complete, none lost or locked,
All paired and perfect, clothing light.

Your cheeks like pomegranate bloom
Behind the veils so softly springing,
Their blush like dawn begins to loom,
When morning crowns the distant city.

There are queens in countless number,
And concubines in longer age,
And maidens fair beyond all wonder,
Yet none like her in bright display.

Light of my only pure and true,
The chosen one, upborne in grace;
No greater love the world ever knew,
No light can match her radiant face.

The maidens see and praise her name,
The queens arise, her worth to sing;
Who is she bright as dawn’s first flame,
Like moon and sun awakening?

You are as the light of heaven above,
Fair as the sky in boundless sight,
And like an army strong with love,
And raising banners into light!

I went down to the walnut grove,
To see if vines had come to bloom;
His pomegranates wove to lurk,
Before I had stayed within the room.

Before I knew, I was carried away,
To noble chariots, swift and white;
Like wind that lives without delay,
And bears me on by faith bigger!

How, Shulamite, return, return,
That we may look on you;
Stay, turn to us, our hearts still yearn,
You are the light in all we view.

Why do you gaze upon her soul,
What draws your eyes, what sacred awe?