You are more radiant than the sun, my Beloved,
And I have only begun to sing of your beauty
When my voice takes wing in duty to our love
You deserve more adoration than bright roses
And the light reflected off the mountain lake
At the sight of which I but tremble and quake
You are fairer than ten thousand doves, my Love,
And from above the stars finely shine upon you
So wonderful and true — their service your due
And the moon sings in tune with all the heavens
So leavened with your presence, O my Beloved,
So I dare throw off every care for I am yours . . .