[Maltese][Italian]

Kiss me with the kisses of your mouth!
Your love is better than wine.
Your fragrance intoxicating
sweeter than every balsam.

I

Early I loved you, all too early,
my heart searched for you,
my soul yearned for you.
And you spoke straight to my heart,
your words sweeter than honey,
as I served day and night in your presence.
I saw you clothed in majesty and splendour
in a cloud of incense.

II.

The years rolled by,
your voice became feeble, your fragrance vanished.
I gave all my wealth to earn your love,
but I couldn’t sense you beside me any longer.

On my bed, for endless nights,
I yearned for the love of my soul,
I sought you, but found you not.
I beg you, speak to me, my love!
Take me again to the wilderness,
and whisper to my heart as in my youth!

III.

I sleep, but my soul is awake.
The voice of my beloved! He is knocking!
“Open to me, my brother, my beloved,
my head is filled with dew, my hair drips.”

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door,
and my innards trembled for him.
My soul failed when he spoke.

I rose up to open to my beloved;
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
and my fingers with sweet balsam
upon the handle of the lock.

I opened to my beloved;
but my beloved had turned and gone.
I couldn’t catch up, he was way too swift.

IV.

You are beautiful, my beloved!
I saw you rising from the spring pool
at the Rock of the Gazelles.

No image can capture the beauty of your face
Your locks dishevelled by the waters.
Your beard dark as mulberry,
Your chest is bronze in the sun,
the work of a great master;
your back robust as an oak.
Your arms powerful branches
Your legs marvellous columns,
each nerve perfectly sculpted.

I wished that you embraced me tight,
but I was afraid, ashamed.
I hid in the garden, and locked it.
I knew not how to voice the my desire,
the embers burning within, my beloved.

V.

The voice of my beloved!
He comes leaping on the mountains like a deer,
skipping like a gazelle.

“Rise up, my love,
my beloved and come!
See! The winter is past,
the rain is over.
The flowers appears on the earth.
The fig free puts forth its first fruits,
The vines blossom with fragrant smell.”

Awake, north wind
come you south,
blow upon my garden.
Come, my love, to your garden,
gather myrrh and balsam.
Eat of its fruit, and honey from the comb.
The wounded myrrh trees
drip medicinal balsam.

“Arise, my beauty,
my beloved and come.
You ravished my heart, my spouse,
you ravished my heart with your eyes.
Your love is better than wine
Your fragrance is sweeter than balsam.
Your lips drip honey.
An enclosed garden is my brother,
an enclosed garden, a sealed spring.
Your channels water
are an orchard of sweet pomegranates,
of camphor and spikenard,
spikenard and saffron;
calamus and cinnamon,
with all trees of incense,
myrrh and aloes,
with all the best spices.
The fountain of my garden,
living waters gurgling from Lebanon.”

VI.

Lead me to the valleys of En Gedi,
among the date palms and balsam,
leaping like the gazelles.

Blow to a blaze the fire of my love,
as I rest in your arms by the waterfalls,
Your left hand under my head,
your right hand embracing me.

Turn away your eyes from me,
for they have overwhelmed me:
your gaze is too intense.
Your love blazes, a divine flame,
stronger than death, than the netherworld.
Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm.
And let my find rest, lost in your love.