Canticle of Canticles 2

King James Bible	Peshitta ܦܫܝܼܛܬܵܐ
¹ I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.	¹ ܐܝܟ ܫܘܫܢܬ ܫܪܘܝܢܐ ܫܘܫܢܬ ܥܘܡܩܐ
² As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.	² ܐܝܟ ܫܘ̈ܫܢܐ ܒܝܢ̈ܬ ܟܘ̈ܒܐ ܗܟܢܐ ܩܪ̈ܝܒܬܝ ܒܝܢ̈ܬ ܒܢ̈ܬܐ
³ As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.	³ ܐܝܟ ܚܙܘܪܐ ܒܩܝ̈ܣܐ ܕܥܒܐ ܗܟܢܐ ܕܕܝ ܒܝ̈ܢܬ ܒܢܝ̈ܐ ܒܛܠܠܗ ܐܬܪܓܪܓܬ ܘܝܬܒܬ ܦܐܪܗ ܚܠܐ ܠܚܟܝ
⁴ He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.	⁴ ܐܥܠܘܢܝ ܠܒܝܬ ܚܡܪܐ ܛܟܣܘ ܥܠܝ ܪܚܡܬܐ
⁵ Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.	⁵ ܣܡܘܢܝ ܒܦܘܢ̈ܩܐ ܐܟܪܟܘܢܝ ܒܚܙܘܪ̈ܐ ܡܛܠ ܕܟܪܝܗܬ ܪܚܡܬܐ ܐܢܐ
⁶ His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.	⁶ ܣܡܠܗ ܬܚܝܬ ܪܝܫܝ ܘܝܡܝܢܗ ܬܥܦܩܢܝ
⁷ I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.	⁷ ܐܘܡ̈ܝܬܟܝܢ ܒܢ̈ܬ ܐܘܪܫܠܡ ܒܛܒ̈ܝܐ ܐܘ ܒ̈ܥܘܙܝܠܐ ܕܚܩܠܐ ܐܢ ܬܥܝܪ̈ܢ ܘܐܢ ܬܥܝܪ̈ܢ ܝܬ ܪܚܡܬܐ ܥܕܡܐ ܕܬܨܒܐ
⁸ The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.	⁸ ܩܠܗ ܕܕܕܝ ܗܐ ܗܢܐ ܕܐܬܐ ܡܫܘܪ ܥܠ ܛܘܪ̈ܐ ܡܩܝܙ ܥܠ ܪ̈ܡܬܐ
⁹ My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.	⁹ ܕܡ̇ܐ ܕܕܝ ܠܛܒܝܐ ܐܘ ܠܥܘܙܝܠܐ ܕܐܝ̈ܠܐ ܗܐ ܗܘ ܩܐܡ ܒܣܬܪ ܐܣܬܢ ܡܕܝܩ ܡܢ ܟܘ̈ܐ ܡܪܟܢ ܡܢ ܨܝܪ̈ܬܐ
¹⁰ My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.	¹⁰ ܥܢܐ ܕܕܝ ܘܐܡܪ ܠܝ ܩܘܡܝ ܠܟܝ ܩܪܝܒܬܝ̈ ܫܦܝܪܬܝ̈ ܘܙܠ ܠܟܝ
¹¹ For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;	¹¹ ܡܛܠ ܕܗܐ ܣܬܘܐ ܥܒܪ ܡܛܪܐ ܥܒܪ ܘܐܙܠ ܠܗ
¹² The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;	¹² ܗ̈ܒܒܐ ܐܬܚܙܝܘ ܒܐܪܥܐ ܙܒܢܐ ܕܟܣܚܐ ܡܛܐ ܘܩܠܐ ܕܫܘܦܢܝܢܐ ܐܫܬܡܥ ܒܐܬܪܢ
¹³ The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.	¹³ ܬܬܐ ܝܗܒܬ ܦܩܘ̈ܥܝܗ̇ ܓܘ̈ܦܢܐ ܘܣܡܕܪ̈ܐ ܝܗܒܘ ܪܝܚܐ ܩܘܡܝ ܠܟܝ ܫܦܝܪ̈ܬܝ̈ ܩܪ̈ܝܒܬܝ̈ ܘܬܝ ܠܟܝ
¹⁴ O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.	¹⁴ ܝܘܢܝ̈ ܒܚܘܠܒܐ ܕܫܘܥܐ ܒܣܬܪܐ ܕܣܝܓܐ ܚܘܐܝܢܝ ܚܙܘܟܝ ܘܐܫܡܥܝܢܝ ܩܠܟܝ ܡܛܠ ܕܩܠܟܝ ܒܣܝܡ ܘܚܙܘܟܝ ܝܐܐ
¹⁵ Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.	¹⁵ ܐܚܘܕ ܠܢ ܬ̈ܥܠܐ ܬ̈ܥܠܐ ܕܩ̈ܕܩܐ ܡܚ̈ܒܠܝ ܟܪ̈ܡܐ ܘܟܪ̈ܡܝܢ ܕܣܡܕܪ̈ܐ
¹⁶ My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.	¹⁶ ܕܕܝ ܠܝ ܘܐܢܐ ܠܗ ܕܪܥܐ ܒܫ̈ܘܫܢܐ
¹⁷ Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.	¹⁷ ܥܕ ܢܦܘܓ ܝܘܡܐ ܘܢܪܟܢܘܢ ܛ̈ܠܠܐ ܐܬܗܦܟ ܕܡܝ ܠܟ ܕܕܝ ܠܛܒܝܐ ܐܘ ܠܥܘܙܝܠܐ ܕܐܝ̈ܠܐ ܥܠ ܛܘܪ̈ܝ ܒܣ̈ܡܢܐ