The Song of Solomon is like a deep well of yearning; it brims with the excitement and anxiety which love brings, expressing them in beautifully physical language. In this setting, the voices caress each other with shared motifs, at close intervals, weaving in and out at close quarters, touching or overlapping in an embodiment of the text’s physicality. Harmonies are often consonant and rooted, in part to maintain clarity for sixteen closely- woven parts.

Text

O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine.

My beloved is to me a bundle of myrrh, that lies all night between my breasts.

My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of Enge’di.

Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly lovely. Our couch is green;
the beams of our house are of cedar, and our rafters of pine.

O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine.

As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men.
With great delight I sat in his shade,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Sustain me with raisins,
refresh me with apples;

for I am sick with love.
O that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand embraced me!

You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
you have ravished my heart with one look of your eye, with one chain of your neck.

How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride! how much better is your love than wine,
and the scent of your perfumes than any spice! Your lips, O my spouse, drip as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue;

the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind,
and come, O south!
Blow upon my garden,
that its spices may flow out.
Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its precious fruits.

O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine.

I slept, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved! He knocks, saying,
“Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one;

for my head is wet with dew,
my locks with the drops of the night.” I had put off my garment,
how could I put it on?
I had bathed my feet,
how could I soil them?
My beloved put his hand to the latch, and my heart was thrilled within me. I arose to open to my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh,
upon the handles of the bolt.
I opened to my beloved,
but my beloved had turned and gone. My soul failed me when he spoke.
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.

O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine.

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm;
for love is strong as death.