The man’s love even makes him marvel at his wife’s navel. His wife is so beautiful in his eyes. Even her navel is a feast for him. It makes him think of a festive glass of wine.
He also admires the tint of her belly. Its hue reminds him of the colour of wheat lying in a heap. He underscores the beauty of it by an image of lilies surrounding that pile of wheat.
3 Ton sein est une coupe arrondie, Où le vin parfumé ne manque pas; Ton corps est un tas de froment, Entouré de lis.