My parents don't approve of my girlfriend.

They stole my lover and all the colors of happiness.

Sorry baby, but I had to say it.

1981 بغداد حبيبتي يهود العراق، ذكريات وشجون .

As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. Beloved

You are all beautiful, my love. There is no spot in you.

As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

Thou art all fair, my love there is no spot in thee.

I have compared you, my love, to a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.

I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves. Beloved

My beloved spoke, and said to me, Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.

You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners.

Behold, thou art fair, my love behold, thou art fair thou hast doves' eyes.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.

The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom. They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away. Lover

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

My daughter the day we got it, I was tucking her in and I said, Honey, you're my treasure.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, that descend from Mount Gilead.

Behold, thou art fair, my love behold, thou art fair thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

The time it was Chris Connor singing Lush Life how it brought back my college sweetheart, my first real love, who till I left her played the same record.

I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.

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.

She was on Larry King later, and he said, You're probably wondering how on Earth this could happen to you twice. And he said, All I can say to you is, this must be God's message to you, honey. From now on, every day give your all, love your all.

In the latter, human experiences are described in terms of an outsized metaphor (a kind of metaphorical hyperbole), like the stock comparison of eyes to the sun, which Shakespeare makes light of in his sonnet 130 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.