כִּי יַבְשִׁיל אֱלֵי שֶׁמֶשׁ 
יִתְפַּח וְיִבְקַע
עֵת אָסִיף  
אָז יָבֹוא אָדֹון
לָאִילָן
יָסִיר אֶת פִּרְיֹו
לְלֹא פֶּגַע. 
יְבָרֵךְ וִיקַדֵּשׁ עָלָיו.

His Wedding song
My beloved is laden with surprises
like a pomegranate fruit,
There is no one like her,
A work of Art
She is like a burnished chest
In a display window
Of an antique shop
A diadem on its head
A ring with a code
Whose key to its hidden content
Is lost.
Do not force it open,
Do not break up the lock
Let it keep its secrets
Till the master locksmith arrives
By itself will it then unfold.

Thou art like the fruit of the pomegranate my love,
Heavy and ripe,
Gorged with secrets and tastes.
Exquisite are your colors
The facets on your curves,
Your hues radiating fire,
The fragrance of your leaves.
Do not harm the pomegranate rind
Do not slice up its secrets
Lest maggots make it their home
Lest its seeds rot
Its colors waste away.
For it will mature towards the sun
It will swell and burst
In the time of harvest.
A husbandman will then arrive

By the tree,
He will remove its fruit
Without causing harm,
Bless it and sanctify it.  

© Liora Sara Bernstein