ي َمامَتِي مُختَبِئَةٌ فِي شُقُوقِ المُنحَدَرِ الصَّخرِيِّ، فِي حِمَى الجَبَلِ المُرتَفِعِ. أرِينِي مَلامِحَ وَجهِكِ. وَأسمِعِينِي صَوتَكِ، لأنَّ صَوتَكِ عَذبٌ وَجَمالَكِ بَدِيعٌ. هِيَ تَقُولُ للفَتَيات:
My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
Continue reading Report error