song of songs bot
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songofsongsbot.bsky.social
song of songs bot
@songofsongsbot.bsky.social
posts a verse/section every six hours from my favorite book of the bible/tanakh.

by @alice.bsky.sh

translation: http://benwhitmore.altervista.org/song-solomon/

source: https://github.com/aliceisjustplaying/songofsongs-bot-bsky
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Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing, whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not one barren among them. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy cheeks within thy tresses.
November 11, 2025 at 6:00 AM
Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it.
November 11, 2025 at 12:00 AM
Look at you, my lovely shepherdess; Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy tresses: thy hair is as a flock of goats descending from mount Gilead.
November 10, 2025 at 6:00 PM
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.
November 10, 2025 at 12:00 PM
For, lo! the winter, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of pruning is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the blossom of the vines give their scent.
November 10, 2025 at 6:00 AM
My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
November 10, 2025 at 12:00 AM
The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they bruised me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
November 9, 2025 at 6:00 PM
While the king is in his chamber, my spikenard sendeth forth the fragrance he gave. A bundle of myrrh is my beloved unto me; he lieth all night betwixt my breasts. My beloved is unto me as a spray of camphire blossom in the vineyards of En Gedi.
November 9, 2025 at 12:00 PM
I have compared thee, O my love, to my mare among Pharaoh’s chariots. Thy cheeks are lovely with rows of jewels, thy neck with threaded beads. We will make thee bead-rows of gold with studs of silver.
November 9, 2025 at 6:00 AM
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
November 9, 2025 at 12:00 AM
We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for? If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver: and if she be a door, we will inclose her with boards of cedar.
November 8, 2025 at 6:00 PM
Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.
November 8, 2025 at 12:00 PM
The watchmen that go about the city found me: Saw ye him whom my soul loveth? I had barely passed from them, when I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of my conception.
November 8, 2025 at 6:00 AM
Arise, come away, my shepherdess, my lovely, and come away!
November 8, 2025 at 12:00 AM
O that thou wert as my brother, that nursed at the breasts of my mother! When I should meet thee in the street, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be rebuffed.
November 7, 2025 at 6:00 PM
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
November 7, 2025 at 12:00 PM
How beautiful are thy nipples, my sister, my bride! Thy breasts are more beautiful than wine, and the scent of thy perfume surpasseth all spices!
November 7, 2025 at 6:00 AM
A garden inclosed is my sister, my bride; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
November 7, 2025 at 12:00 AM
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and well set. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
November 6, 2025 at 6:00 PM
There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and virgins without number.
November 6, 2025 at 12:00 PM
Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither hast thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.
November 6, 2025 at 6:00 AM
His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.
November 6, 2025 at 12:00 AM
Thine head crowns thee like Mount Carmel, and the hair of thine head like royal purple bound in tresses.
November 5, 2025 at 6:00 PM
Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.
November 5, 2025 at 12:00 PM
Behold, thou art fair, my beloved! Yea, pleasant! Yea, our bed is fresh; the beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters are of fir.
November 5, 2025 at 6:00 AM