My lover glows with health; there’s none like him.
Thick, black, and wavy hair flows from his head.
His gentle sparkling eyes with kindness beam.
There’s none but him to whom I would be wed.
His rugged face is like a bed of spice
that yields perfume. I love to kiss his lips.
They drip with myrrh. I am by them enticed.
His arms of gold enfold me in their grip.
His sculpted torso shines like ivory.
His legs are marble set on feet of gold.
He stands erect, a mighty cedar tree.
His mouth is sweet and lovely to behold.
This is my lover, this my dearest friend!
O sisters, this my true love to the end!
A Young Man with a Basket of Fruit, Bartholome Esteban Murillo, 1640