Where has thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? where didst thy beloved separate himself? that we may seek him with thee.
My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather the lilies.
I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; he feeds among the lilies.
Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, as desirable as Jerusalem, imposing as the standard-bearer of the army.
Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me; thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Gilead.
Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing, of which every one bears twins, and there is not one barren among them.
As slices of pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks.
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and virgins without number.
My dove is but one, my perfect one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that brought her into the light. The virgins saw her and called her blessed; yea, the queens and the concubines and they praised her.
Who is she that shows herself forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and imposing as the standard-bearer of the army?
I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vines flourished, and the pomegranates budded.
Or ever I was aware, my soul made me return like the chariots of Amminadib.
Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? She shall be as a multitude of tabernacles.