I liken you, my darling, to a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh (1:9). My love is to me a cluster of henna blossoms from the vineyards of En Gedi (1:14). Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens (2:2). Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my love among the younger men (2:3). Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead (4:1). Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone (4:2).
With Valentimes day approaching, let me try to wax elephants: Oh my darling, I so admire your continents. With you I can sore like a beagle under a blue moon. Like Jack Splat and his fat wife, we’re made to stick together. You’re the breeze that makes wind for me. I’m your bow that propels your error. I love you more than bacon and I wallow in your infection. Please be my Valentime for the rest of entirety.
How’s that for romance?