My Lover
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!
(Ch. 5:10-16)
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A Young Man with a Basket of Fruit, Bartholome Esteban Murillo, 1640
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