Most beautiful of women, where has your lover gone? Tell us which way your lover went, so that we can help you find him.
My lover has gone to his garden, where the balsam trees grow. He is feeding his flock in the garden and gathering lilies.
My lover is mine, and I am his; he feeds his flock among the lilies.
My love, you are as beautiful as Jerusalem, as lovely as the city of Tirzah, as breathtaking as these great cities.
Turn your eyes away from me; they are holding me captive. Your hair dances like a flock of goats bounding down the hills of Gilead.
Your teeth are as white as a flock of sheep that have just been washed. Not one of them is missing; they are all perfectly matched.
Your cheeks glow behind your veil.
Let the king have sixty queens, eighty concubines, young women without number!
But I love only one, and she is as lovely as a dove. She is her mother's only daughter, her mother's favorite child. All women look at her and praise her; queens and concubines sing her praises.
Who is this whose glance is like the dawn? She is beautiful and bright, as dazzling as the sun or the moon.
I have come down among the almond trees to see the young plants in the valley, to see the new leaves on the vines and the blossoms on the pomegranate trees.
I am trembling; you have made me as eager for love as a chariot driver is for battle.
Dance, dance, girl of Shulam. Let us watch you as you dance. Why do you want to watch me as I dance between the rows of onlookers?