Not sure now where I found this, but what a brilliant illustration of the absurdity of literalistic interpretation.
The following is my still somewhat preliminary translation of Song of Songs 4:1-7. I especially love the wonderful way of referring to the break of day in v. 6, ‘until the day breathes / and the shadows flee’.
You are so beautiful, my love.
You are so beautiful.
Your eyes are doves
looking out from behind your locks.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down Mount Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock ready to be shorn
that have come up from the washing pool,
every one of them having twins,
not one of them bereaved of offspring.
Like a scarlet ribbon are your lips;
your mouth is beautiful.
Like a slice of pomegranate gleams your brow
from behind your locks.
Like the tower of David is your neck,
built to perfection.
A thousand bucklers hang on it,
all kinds of warriors’ shields.
Your breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle,
which feed among the lotuses.
Until the day breathes
and the shadows flee
I will go to the mountain of myrrh,
to the hill of frankincense.
All of you is beautiful, my love;
there is no flaw in you.