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Your lips drip sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride, honey and milk are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
His young shoots will grow; his splendor will be like an olive tree, his fragrance like a cedar of Lebanon.
How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine; the fragrance of your perfume is better than any spice!
I want 1 to climb the palm tree, 2 and take hold of its fruit stalks. May your breasts be like the clusters of grapes, 3 and may the fragrance of your breath be like apricots! 4
Once the satraps, prefects, governors, and ministers of the king had gathered around, they saw that those men were physically 1 unharmed by the fire. 2 The hair of their heads was not singed, nor were their trousers damaged. Not even the smell of fire was to be found on them!