Where did your beloved go, most beautiful of women? Where did your beloved turn? We will look for him with you.
My beloved went to his garden, to the beds of spices, to graze his flock in the gardens and gather lilies.
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine. He is the one who grazes his flock among the lilies.
You are beautiful, my true love, like Tirzah, lovely like Jerusalem, awe-inspiring like those great cities.
Turn your eyes away from me. They enchant me! Your hair is like a flock of goats moving down from Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep, sheep that come up from the washing. All of them bear twins, and not one has lost its young.
Your temples behind your veil are like slices of pomegranate.
There are 60 queens, 80 concubines, and countless virgins,
but she is unique, my dove, my perfect one. Her mother thinks she is unique. She is pure to the one who gave birth to her. Her sisters saw her and blessed her. Queens and concubines saw her and praised her.
Who is this young woman? She looks like the dawn. She is beautiful like the moon, pure like the sun, awe-inspiring like those heavenly bodies.
I went to the walnut grove to look at the blossoms in the valley, to see if the grapevine had budded and if the pomegranates were in bloom.
I did not know that I had become like the chariots of my noble people.
Come back! Come back, young woman from Shulam! Come back! Come back so that we may look at you! Why do you look at me, the young woman from Shulam, as you look at the dance of Mahanaim?