Canticle of Canticles 2

KING JAMES BIBLE	Peshitta
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