Song of Songs
Fragment of an ancient play as interpreted by Leonard H. Berman
Song of Songs has come down to us as a beautiful lyric narrative expressing metaphorically either God’s love for His people, or the expression of Israel’s devotion to God and to the Sabbath. It has even been portrayed as a figurative history of Israel till the times of the Messiah. It is possible that our forefathers recognized that a metaphoric interpretation was the only type possible since a literal interpretation would necessitate modest men excluding this work from the canon because of its passionate and sensuous nature.
We are indebted to these sages for their idealistic interpretation since such an interpretation kept this magnificent work as part of our literary and religious heritage. Still, Song of Songs is, in reality, a tribute to the earthy and lyrical side of the ancient Hebrews and when separated from religious allegory, remains a profound and moving expression of sensual passions, exalted reveries, profound longings, unrequited love, and the eternal love triangle. It is difficult for the contemporary mind to force a view of Song of Songs as a religious allegory.
Nineteen hundred years ago, Akiba said that “though all the books of Bible are holy, Song of Songs is the holiest of all.” This statement rescued the piece from being excluded from the Biblical canon set down in the second century by the Rabbinical Synod at Jabneh. Prior to this, it had been excluded from canon probably because it was read literally, and not metaphorically.
It was with my own difficulty in accepting the metaphoric interpretation that I kept returning to Song of Songs, and with each reading, I became more and more convinced that three separate and distinct personalities spoke these lines. In addition, a chorus of women were also discernible as were a chorus of men who briefly appear. At times these personalities seem to speak directly to each other. Sometimes they speak as if in reverie. Always they speak of love, longing, earthly pleasures, and beauty. They never speak of God. This seemed to be a secular work of art.
Though distinct personalities appear throughout, the lines they speak are run together as if the work is a work of prose and not a dialogue in verse which they most certainly seem to be when separated. The error is understood when one recognizes that ancient Hebrew texts were transcribed and handed down to us without the benefit of punctuation, especially, quotation marks. It is certainly conceivable that since centuries separate the author and his original intent from the reader, the original purpose of this work has been lost and we are left with a group of sentences which when read as a narrative are beautiful in structure and imagery, but make no sense.
The work is further complicated by the fact that we seem to be dealing with successive sections of story lines that appear to have no logical sequence. What emerges is a beautiful yet desultory patchwork. Yet a definite story can be gleaned even though key sections seem to be missing. This might have led the German poet and scholar, Herder, in the 18th century to view Song of Songs a series of independent lyrics that may have been used as folk songs praising a bride and groom.
In order to make sense out of this work, I believe one must separate the lines and put them into the mouths of the three discernible personalities. By doing this from the outset, and including some direction to the speakers, communication among the three people becomes logical, and one might conclude that Song of Songs is a series of fragmented lines of dialogue from a much larger oral entertainment heard in the court of Solomon some twenty-five hundred years ago. If this is true, than almost five hundred years before Sophocles, a form of drama where three actors supported by a chorus was performed for the pleasure of Solomon and his court.
All ancient cultures had oral traditions and the ancient Hebrews were certainly no exception. It is inconceivable to me that a dazzling and sophisticated court such as Solomon’s would not have had dramatic presentations of some type as a primary form of entertainment. If there was music in Solomon’s Temple, why could there not have been dramas performed in the throne room?
If my hypothesis is correct, we have here what might be a brilliant fragment of a long tradition of dramatic literature now lost or waiting to be discovered.. Such a situation exists elsewhere. Both the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer are pinnacles of heroic verse and the height of what must have been a long tradition. Yet nothing showing the development of this literary tradition remains extant. We accept the possibility for these Greek masterpieces to exist without any other l documents in the same tradition that would lead up to such works. So might we not accept the idea that a body of dramatic literature might have existed during the 9th century BCE and that the piece we call the Song of Songs was a dramatic fragment retained in our liturgy because of its inherent beauty and applied mystical meanings.
Readers of Song of Songs must admit that nothing quite like it exist anywhere in our written tradition. We have a poetic tradition revealed in the Book of Psalms, and we have a tradition of aphorism handed down in the Book of Proverbs. We have a tradition of prophetic narrative documenting historical personages and their actions, and we have a tradition of what might be viewed as short stories or novellas handed down in our megilloth. Our Torah itself, in addition to being a document citing legal and moral teachings is also a series of historical biographies. We even have a tradition of essays and meditations.
Such a literate and literary people producing such a varied literal tradition with such a variety of styles might certainly produce a of dramatic literature. In all that has been given us, Song of Songs is totally unique. It is neither poem, nor proverb, historical narrative, nor short story, nor legal or moral document, or historical biography, or essay. But Song of Songs has the qualities of a dramatic play.
Song of Songs – a fragment of an ancient play written by Gut Vaist
Script by Leonard H. Berman
Upstage center a delicate, dark complected girl is found on a small balcony, her hands clasped as if imploring heaven. She is responding to something the shepherd just said to her. Near the balcony is a shepherd boy who glances around so as not to be caught. He emerges from behind a lattice.
Girl: O that he would kiss me with his lips!
Shepard: Indeed, your caresses are better than wine. Sweet is the fragrance of your perfume; your very self is a precious perfume; therefore do the maidens love you
Downstage right, the King stands before a mirror dressing for his meeting with his newest concubine. He is musing to the mirror.
King: We will thrill with delight over you; we will celebrate your caresses more than wine! Rightly do they love you.
(Light dims. King is motionless.)
Girl: Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you feed the flocks, where you make them rest at noon; why should I wander among the flocks of your companions?
Shepherd: If you do not know, fairest of women, follow the sheep-tracks and pasture your kids beside the tents of the shepherds.
Solomon: I compare you my love, to a mare in Pharaoh’s chariots. Beautiful are your cheeks with circlets, your neck with stings of beads! Circlets of gold will we make for you with studs of silver.
Girl: While the king sits at his table, my nard gives forth its fragrance. My beloved is my bunch of myrrh that lies between my breasts. My beloved is my cluster of henna-blossom fro the gardens of Engedi.
Shepherd: You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful; your eyes are dove-like.
(She descends and moves towards him and pulls him to the ground under some trees.)
Girl: You are handsome, my beloved, and pleasant; and our couch is leafy. The beams of our houses are cedars, and our rafters are fir.
(A chorus of women appear down stage left. They have been watching her and turn from her as she moves towards them.)
Girl: I am dark yet comely, maidens of Jerusalem; dark as the tents of Kedar, comely as the curtains of Solomon. Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has tanned me; my mother’s sons were angry with me, they made me keeper of the vineyards; I did not look after my own vineyard. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
Shepherd: (moving towards her) Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the maidens.
Girl: (to the Shepherd) Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the youths; in his shadow I long to sit, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
(Shepherd moves out of the light and moves back upstage center behind the lattice.)
Girl:(To the chorus of women) He brings me to the house of wine, and looks at me with love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am love-sick. O that his left hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me.
Chorus of Women: (to one another) I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it pleases.
Girl: (to the darkness looking for the sound of his voice) The voice of my beloved! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills! My beloved is like a gazelle, like a young deer; here he stands, behind our wall gazing through the windows peering through the lattice. My beloved called and said to me:
Shepherd: (Speaks as he emerges from behind the lattice.) Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. For, lo, the winter is over, the rain is past and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of song has come; and the call of the turtle-dove is heard in our land; the fig-tree is ripening its early figs, and the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance. Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the cliff, let me see your form, let me hear your voice; for sweet is your voice, and your form is comely.
Chorus of Women: Seize us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom.
Girl: (to the darkness) My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feeds his flock among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, return my beloved, and be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountains of Bether.
(To the Chorus of Women) On my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but I did not find him. I will rise [I said] and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares– I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him, but I did not find him. The watchmen who go about the city found me: Have you seen him whom my soul love? Scarcely had I left them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go, until I brought him into my mother’s house into the chamber of her who conceived me.
Chorus of Women: (to one another) I adjure you maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love until it please.
First Woman: What is this coming up from the wilderness, like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all aromatic powders of the merchant?
Second Woman: It is Solomon’s palanquin; sixty heroes are around it, heroes of Israel. All of them are armed with swords and are trained in way each has his sword on his hip, because of danger at night.
Third Woman: King Solomon made himself a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made its columns of silver, its top of gold, its seat of purple, its interior inlaid with love, from the maidens of Jerusalem..
Chorus of Women together: Go forth maidens of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, wearing a crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his marriage, on the day of his profound joy.
(Chorus leaves. Girl is stands center stage. Lights come up on Solomon down stage right looking into the darkness. Shepard moves downstage left and looks into the darkness. Both give the impression that they are looking at the girl)
Shepherd: You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful! Your eyes are dove-like behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats, tailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep all shaped alike, which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired, and not one of them is missing.
Solomon: Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and you mouth is comely; your temples, behind your veil, are like a slice of pomegranate. Your neck is like the tower of David built for trophies; a thousand shields hang on it all armor of heroes. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, pasturing among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, I will betake myself to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of frankincense. You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no blemish in you.
Shepherd: Come with me from Lebanon, bride of mine with me from Lebanon come; depart from the top of Amana, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
Solomon: You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; you have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one bead of your necklace. How lovely are your caresses, my sister my bride! How much better than wine are your caresses and the fragrance of you ointments than all kinds of perfume.
Shepherd: Your lips, my bride, drip honey; honey and milk are under your tongue; the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden enclose is my sister, my bride, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed. Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, together with all the finest perfumes. You are a fountain of gardens, a well of fresh water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.
Girl: (moving down towards the Shepherd) Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow upon my garden, that its perfume may waft out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat its precious fruits.
Shepherd: (Turning towards her and taking her hands) I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh and my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. (passionately to the air as he hold her hands.) Eat, friends, drink, drink abundantly, beloved friends!
Girl: I was asleep, but my heart was awake; hark, my beloved is knocking:
Shepherd: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my innocent one; for my head is drenched with dew, my locks with drops of the night.
(Chorus of Women re-enter and stand behind the girl and shepherd)
Girl: (To Shepherd) But I have taken off my robe: how shall I put it on again? I have washed my feet; how shall I soil them? (To the women) My beloved put his hand though the doorway, and my heart yearned for him. (Shepherd leaves) I rose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with the finest myrrh, upon the handles of the bar. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had turned away, had gone; my soul failed when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The watchmen who go about the city found me; they struck me, they wounded me; the guardians of the walls stripped me of my mantle. I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, do not tell him that I am love sick.
Chorus of Women: What? Is your beloved more than another lover, O fairest of women? What? Is your beloved more than another lover, that you adjure us thus?
Girl: Dazzling and ruddy is my beloved, distinguished among ten thousand. His head is fine gold, his locks are curled, and as black as a raven. His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks, bathing in milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are beds of balsam-flower, producing sweet perfumes; his lips are [red] lilies, breathing the finest myrrh. His hands are rods of gold, studded with topaz pink; his body is polished ivory, inlaid with sapphire. His legs are pillars of marble, set on bases of fine gold; his form is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet, and he is altogether lovely. Such is my beloved, and such is my lover, O maidens of Jerusalem.
Chorus of Women: Where has your beloved gone, O fairest of women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?
Girl: My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the flower-beds of balsam, to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine, who pastures among the lilies.
(Chorus leaves.) Girl stands downstage center. Solomon and Shepherd appear down stage left and downstage right. All speak to one another as if before them but not looking at them directly )
Solomon: (reenters) You are as beautiful as Tizah, my love, as comely as Jerusalem, as overawing as the most distinguished. Turn your eyes away from me, for they dazzle me.
Shepherd: Your hair is like a flock of goats, trailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired and not one of them is missing. Your temples are like a slice of pomegranate, behind your veil.
Solomon: There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and maidens without number; but one alone is my dove, my innocent one; she is the only one of her mother; she is her mother’s own darling. The maidens look upon her, and bless her; the queens and the concubines praise her. Who is she that appears like the dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as bright as the sun, as overawing as the most distinguished?
Girl: I went down to the nut garden, to look at the green plants of the dale, to see if the grapevine was a-budding, whether the pomegranates were in flower. Before I was aware, my fancy set me among the chariots of my noble people.
Solomon: Return, return O Shulammite; return, return, that we may gaze at you.
Girl: (towards Solomon) Why should you gaze at the Shulammite as upon the dance of Mahanain?
Solomon: How beautiful are your steps in sandals, O princess; the curves of your thighs are like ornaments made by an artist. Your chest is like a round goblet ever filled with wine; your body is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like a tower of ivory; your eyes are like the pools of Hesbon, at the gate of Bathrabim; your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus. Your head is on you like Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purple; the king is held captive in its tresses. How beautiful, how sweet you are, O love’s delight! This stature of yours is like a palm tree, and your breasts like clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree, I will take hold of its branches; let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the fragrance of your breath like that of apples, and your soft speech like the best wine– flowing, smoothly for my beloved, gliding over the lips of those about to sleep
Girl: I am my beloved’s, and his longing is for me. Come, my beloved, let us go into the fields, let us stay in the villages; let us go early to the vineyards, to see whether the grapevine has budded, whether the vine blossoms have opened, if the pomegranates are in flower. There I will give my love to you. The love-plants yield their fragrance, and at our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, both new and old, which I have kept for you, my beloved. (Aside) O that you were my brother, who had been nursed by my mother! I would meet you in the street and kiss you, and none would despise me. I would lead you and bring you into my mother’s house, that you might instruct me; I would give you some spiced wine to drink, some f my pomegranate juice. (In revery) O that his let hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me! (Suddenly moving downstage center toward the audience) I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it please.
(Chorus re-enters, Solomon leaves)
Chorus of Women: Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?
Girl: (to Shepherd) I woke you under the apple tree, where your mother had been in travail with you, where she had brought you forth. Place me like a seal upon your heart, like a seal upon your arm.
Shepherd: (to Girl) Indeed, love is strong as death itself, ardent love is severe as the grave; it flashes are flashes of fire, a flame of the Lord. Floods cannot quench love, rivers cannot down it; if a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be laughed aside.
(Enter a chorus of three young men)
Brothers: We have a young sister, and she has no breasts yet; but what shall we do with our sister when she will be asked in marriage? If she is a wall, we will build a silver turret on her; but if she is a door, we will enclose her with cedar boards.
Girl: Now I am a wall, and my breasts like towers, then I should win his favor.
Brothers: Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon; he gave over the vineyard to caretakers; each would bring in a thousand silver pieces for its fruit.
Single Brother: I keep my vineyard to myself; you, Solomon, are welcome to the thousand shekels, and the caretakers of the fruit to the two hundred shekels.
Girl: O you who sit in the gardens, the companions are listening to your voices; let me hear it too! Make hast, my beloved, be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountain of spices.
Sadly, the rest is lost and only a fragmentary part is left of the brothers. We sense that the girl has been taken by the brothers and sealed off from the shepherd. She continues to wait for her love to rescue her.
We are indebted to these sages for their idealistic interpretation since such an interpretation kept this magnificent work as part of our literary and religious heritage. Still, Song of Songs is, in reality, a tribute to the earthy and lyrical side of the ancient Hebrews and when separated from religious allegory, remains a profound and moving expression of sensual passions, exalted reveries, profound longings, unrequited love, and the eternal love triangle. It is difficult for the contemporary mind to force a view of Song of Songs as a religious allegory.
Nineteen hundred years ago, Akiba said that “though all the books of Bible are holy, Song of Songs is the holiest of all.” This statement rescued the piece from being excluded from the Biblical canon set down in the second century by the Rabbinical Synod at Jabneh. Prior to this, it had been excluded from canon probably because it was read literally, and not metaphorically.
It was with my own difficulty in accepting the metaphoric interpretation that I kept returning to Song of Songs, and with each reading, I became more and more convinced that three separate and distinct personalities spoke these lines. In addition, a chorus of women were also discernible as were a chorus of men who briefly appear. At times these personalities seem to speak directly to each other. Sometimes they speak as if in reverie. Always they speak of love, longing, earthly pleasures, and beauty. They never speak of God. This seemed to be a secular work of art.
Though distinct personalities appear throughout, the lines they speak are run together as if the work is a work of prose and not a dialogue in verse which they most certainly seem to be when separated. The error is understood when one recognizes that ancient Hebrew texts were transcribed and handed down to us without the benefit of punctuation, especially, quotation marks. It is certainly conceivable that since centuries separate the author and his original intent from the reader, the original purpose of this work has been lost and we are left with a group of sentences which when read as a narrative are beautiful in structure and imagery, but make no sense.
The work is further complicated by the fact that we seem to be dealing with successive sections of story lines that appear to have no logical sequence. What emerges is a beautiful yet desultory patchwork. Yet a definite story can be gleaned even though key sections seem to be missing. This might have led the German poet and scholar, Herder, in the 18th century to view Song of Songs a series of independent lyrics that may have been used as folk songs praising a bride and groom.
In order to make sense out of this work, I believe one must separate the lines and put them into the mouths of the three discernible personalities. By doing this from the outset, and including some direction to the speakers, communication among the three people becomes logical, and one might conclude that Song of Songs is a series of fragmented lines of dialogue from a much larger oral entertainment heard in the court of Solomon some twenty-five hundred years ago. If this is true, than almost five hundred years before Sophocles, a form of drama where three actors supported by a chorus was performed for the pleasure of Solomon and his court.
All ancient cultures had oral traditions and the ancient Hebrews were certainly no exception. It is inconceivable to me that a dazzling and sophisticated court such as Solomon’s would not have had dramatic presentations of some type as a primary form of entertainment. If there was music in Solomon’s Temple, why could there not have been dramas performed in the throne room?
If my hypothesis is correct, we have here what might be a brilliant fragment of a long tradition of dramatic literature now lost or waiting to be discovered.. Such a situation exists elsewhere. Both the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer are pinnacles of heroic verse and the height of what must have been a long tradition. Yet nothing showing the development of this literary tradition remains extant. We accept the possibility for these Greek masterpieces to exist without any other l documents in the same tradition that would lead up to such works. So might we not accept the idea that a body of dramatic literature might have existed during the 9th century BCE and that the piece we call the Song of Songs was a dramatic fragment retained in our liturgy because of its inherent beauty and applied mystical meanings.
Readers of Song of Songs must admit that nothing quite like it exist anywhere in our written tradition. We have a poetic tradition revealed in the Book of Psalms, and we have a tradition of aphorism handed down in the Book of Proverbs. We have a tradition of prophetic narrative documenting historical personages and their actions, and we have a tradition of what might be viewed as short stories or novellas handed down in our megilloth. Our Torah itself, in addition to being a document citing legal and moral teachings is also a series of historical biographies. We even have a tradition of essays and meditations.
Such a literate and literary people producing such a varied literal tradition with such a variety of styles might certainly produce a of dramatic literature. In all that has been given us, Song of Songs is totally unique. It is neither poem, nor proverb, historical narrative, nor short story, nor legal or moral document, or historical biography, or essay. But Song of Songs has the qualities of a dramatic play.
Song of Songs – a fragment of an ancient play written by Gut Vaist
Script by Leonard H. Berman
Upstage center a delicate, dark complected girl is found on a small balcony, her hands clasped as if imploring heaven. She is responding to something the shepherd just said to her. Near the balcony is a shepherd boy who glances around so as not to be caught. He emerges from behind a lattice.
Girl: O that he would kiss me with his lips!
Shepard: Indeed, your caresses are better than wine. Sweet is the fragrance of your perfume; your very self is a precious perfume; therefore do the maidens love you
Downstage right, the King stands before a mirror dressing for his meeting with his newest concubine. He is musing to the mirror.
King: We will thrill with delight over you; we will celebrate your caresses more than wine! Rightly do they love you.
(Light dims. King is motionless.)
Girl: Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you feed the flocks, where you make them rest at noon; why should I wander among the flocks of your companions?
Shepherd: If you do not know, fairest of women, follow the sheep-tracks and pasture your kids beside the tents of the shepherds.
Solomon: I compare you my love, to a mare in Pharaoh’s chariots. Beautiful are your cheeks with circlets, your neck with stings of beads! Circlets of gold will we make for you with studs of silver.
Girl: While the king sits at his table, my nard gives forth its fragrance. My beloved is my bunch of myrrh that lies between my breasts. My beloved is my cluster of henna-blossom fro the gardens of Engedi.
Shepherd: You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful; your eyes are dove-like.
(She descends and moves towards him and pulls him to the ground under some trees.)
Girl: You are handsome, my beloved, and pleasant; and our couch is leafy. The beams of our houses are cedars, and our rafters are fir.
(A chorus of women appear down stage left. They have been watching her and turn from her as she moves towards them.)
Girl: I am dark yet comely, maidens of Jerusalem; dark as the tents of Kedar, comely as the curtains of Solomon. Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has tanned me; my mother’s sons were angry with me, they made me keeper of the vineyards; I did not look after my own vineyard. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.
Shepherd: (moving towards her) Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the maidens.
Girl: (to the Shepherd) Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the youths; in his shadow I long to sit, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
(Shepherd moves out of the light and moves back upstage center behind the lattice.)
Girl:(To the chorus of women) He brings me to the house of wine, and looks at me with love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am love-sick. O that his left hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me.
Chorus of Women: (to one another) I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it pleases.
Girl: (to the darkness looking for the sound of his voice) The voice of my beloved! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills! My beloved is like a gazelle, like a young deer; here he stands, behind our wall gazing through the windows peering through the lattice. My beloved called and said to me:
Shepherd: (Speaks as he emerges from behind the lattice.) Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. For, lo, the winter is over, the rain is past and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of song has come; and the call of the turtle-dove is heard in our land; the fig-tree is ripening its early figs, and the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance. Rise, my love, my beauty, come away. O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the cliff, let me see your form, let me hear your voice; for sweet is your voice, and your form is comely.
Chorus of Women: Seize us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom.
Girl: (to the darkness) My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feeds his flock among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, return my beloved, and be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountains of Bether.
(To the Chorus of Women) On my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but I did not find him. I will rise [I said] and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares– I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him, but I did not find him. The watchmen who go about the city found me: Have you seen him whom my soul love? Scarcely had I left them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go, until I brought him into my mother’s house into the chamber of her who conceived me.
Chorus of Women: (to one another) I adjure you maidens of Jerusalem, by the gazelles, or by the deer of the field, do not stir up, do not rouse love until it please.
First Woman: What is this coming up from the wilderness, like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all aromatic powders of the merchant?
Second Woman: It is Solomon’s palanquin; sixty heroes are around it, heroes of Israel. All of them are armed with swords and are trained in way each has his sword on his hip, because of danger at night.
Third Woman: King Solomon made himself a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made its columns of silver, its top of gold, its seat of purple, its interior inlaid with love, from the maidens of Jerusalem..
Chorus of Women together: Go forth maidens of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, wearing a crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his marriage, on the day of his profound joy.
(Chorus leaves. Girl is stands center stage. Lights come up on Solomon down stage right looking into the darkness. Shepard moves downstage left and looks into the darkness. Both give the impression that they are looking at the girl)
Shepherd: You are beautiful, my love, you are beautiful! Your eyes are dove-like behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats, tailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep all shaped alike, which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired, and not one of them is missing.
Solomon: Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and you mouth is comely; your temples, behind your veil, are like a slice of pomegranate. Your neck is like the tower of David built for trophies; a thousand shields hang on it all armor of heroes. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, pasturing among the lilies. When the day grows cool, and the shadows flee, I will betake myself to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of frankincense. You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no blemish in you.
Shepherd: Come with me from Lebanon, bride of mine with me from Lebanon come; depart from the top of Amana, from the peaks of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
Solomon: You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride; you have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one bead of your necklace. How lovely are your caresses, my sister my bride! How much better than wine are your caresses and the fragrance of you ointments than all kinds of perfume.
Shepherd: Your lips, my bride, drip honey; honey and milk are under your tongue; the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon. A garden enclose is my sister, my bride, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed. Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with precious fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, together with all the finest perfumes. You are a fountain of gardens, a well of fresh water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.
Girl: (moving down towards the Shepherd) Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow upon my garden, that its perfume may waft out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat its precious fruits.
Shepherd: (Turning towards her and taking her hands) I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh and my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. (passionately to the air as he hold her hands.) Eat, friends, drink, drink abundantly, beloved friends!
Girl: I was asleep, but my heart was awake; hark, my beloved is knocking:
Shepherd: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my innocent one; for my head is drenched with dew, my locks with drops of the night.
(Chorus of Women re-enter and stand behind the girl and shepherd)
Girl: (To Shepherd) But I have taken off my robe: how shall I put it on again? I have washed my feet; how shall I soil them? (To the women) My beloved put his hand though the doorway, and my heart yearned for him. (Shepherd leaves) I rose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with the finest myrrh, upon the handles of the bar. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had turned away, had gone; my soul failed when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The watchmen who go about the city found me; they struck me, they wounded me; the guardians of the walls stripped me of my mantle. I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, do not tell him that I am love sick.
Chorus of Women: What? Is your beloved more than another lover, O fairest of women? What? Is your beloved more than another lover, that you adjure us thus?
Girl: Dazzling and ruddy is my beloved, distinguished among ten thousand. His head is fine gold, his locks are curled, and as black as a raven. His eyes are like doves beside the water-brooks, bathing in milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are beds of balsam-flower, producing sweet perfumes; his lips are [red] lilies, breathing the finest myrrh. His hands are rods of gold, studded with topaz pink; his body is polished ivory, inlaid with sapphire. His legs are pillars of marble, set on bases of fine gold; his form is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet, and he is altogether lovely. Such is my beloved, and such is my lover, O maidens of Jerusalem.
Chorus of Women: Where has your beloved gone, O fairest of women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?
Girl: My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the flower-beds of balsam, to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine, who pastures among the lilies.
(Chorus leaves.) Girl stands downstage center. Solomon and Shepherd appear down stage left and downstage right. All speak to one another as if before them but not looking at them directly )
Solomon: (reenters) You are as beautiful as Tizah, my love, as comely as Jerusalem, as overawing as the most distinguished. Turn your eyes away from me, for they dazzle me.
Shepherd: Your hair is like a flock of goats, trailing down from Mount Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep which have come up from the washing; all of them are paired and not one of them is missing. Your temples are like a slice of pomegranate, behind your veil.
Solomon: There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and maidens without number; but one alone is my dove, my innocent one; she is the only one of her mother; she is her mother’s own darling. The maidens look upon her, and bless her; the queens and the concubines praise her. Who is she that appears like the dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as bright as the sun, as overawing as the most distinguished?
Girl: I went down to the nut garden, to look at the green plants of the dale, to see if the grapevine was a-budding, whether the pomegranates were in flower. Before I was aware, my fancy set me among the chariots of my noble people.
Solomon: Return, return O Shulammite; return, return, that we may gaze at you.
Girl: (towards Solomon) Why should you gaze at the Shulammite as upon the dance of Mahanain?
Solomon: How beautiful are your steps in sandals, O princess; the curves of your thighs are like ornaments made by an artist. Your chest is like a round goblet ever filled with wine; your body is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like a tower of ivory; your eyes are like the pools of Hesbon, at the gate of Bathrabim; your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus. Your head is on you like Carmel, and the hair of your head is like purple; the king is held captive in its tresses. How beautiful, how sweet you are, O love’s delight! This stature of yours is like a palm tree, and your breasts like clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree, I will take hold of its branches; let your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the fragrance of your breath like that of apples, and your soft speech like the best wine– flowing, smoothly for my beloved, gliding over the lips of those about to sleep
Girl: I am my beloved’s, and his longing is for me. Come, my beloved, let us go into the fields, let us stay in the villages; let us go early to the vineyards, to see whether the grapevine has budded, whether the vine blossoms have opened, if the pomegranates are in flower. There I will give my love to you. The love-plants yield their fragrance, and at our doors are all kinds of precious fruits, both new and old, which I have kept for you, my beloved. (Aside) O that you were my brother, who had been nursed by my mother! I would meet you in the street and kiss you, and none would despise me. I would lead you and bring you into my mother’s house, that you might instruct me; I would give you some spiced wine to drink, some f my pomegranate juice. (In revery) O that his let hand were under my head, and his right hand were embracing me! (Suddenly moving downstage center toward the audience) I adjure you, maidens of Jerusalem, do not stir up, do not rouse love, until it please.
(Chorus re-enters, Solomon leaves)
Chorus of Women: Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?
Girl: (to Shepherd) I woke you under the apple tree, where your mother had been in travail with you, where she had brought you forth. Place me like a seal upon your heart, like a seal upon your arm.
Shepherd: (to Girl) Indeed, love is strong as death itself, ardent love is severe as the grave; it flashes are flashes of fire, a flame of the Lord. Floods cannot quench love, rivers cannot down it; if a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be laughed aside.
(Enter a chorus of three young men)
Brothers: We have a young sister, and she has no breasts yet; but what shall we do with our sister when she will be asked in marriage? If she is a wall, we will build a silver turret on her; but if she is a door, we will enclose her with cedar boards.
Girl: Now I am a wall, and my breasts like towers, then I should win his favor.
Brothers: Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon; he gave over the vineyard to caretakers; each would bring in a thousand silver pieces for its fruit.
Single Brother: I keep my vineyard to myself; you, Solomon, are welcome to the thousand shekels, and the caretakers of the fruit to the two hundred shekels.
Girl: O you who sit in the gardens, the companions are listening to your voices; let me hear it too! Make hast, my beloved, be like a gazelle, or like a young deer, on the mountain of spices.
Sadly, the rest is lost and only a fragmentary part is left of the brothers. We sense that the girl has been taken by the brothers and sealed off from the shepherd. She continues to wait for her love to rescue her.