Where has your lover gone, most beautiful of women? Which way did your lover turn? We will look for him with you.
My lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens and to gather lilies.
I belong to my lover, and my lover belongs to me. He feeds among the lilies.
My darling, you are as beautiful as the city of Tirzah, as lovely as the city of Jerusalem, like an army flying flags.
Turn your eyes from me, because they excite me too much. Your hair is like a flock of goats streaming down Mount Gilead.
Your teeth are white like sheep just coming from their bath; each one has a twin, and none of them is missing.
Your cheeks behind your veil are like slices of a pomegranate.
There may be sixty queens and eighty slave women and so many girls you cannot count them,
but there is only one like my dove, my perfect one. She is her mother's only daughter, the brightest of the one who gave her birth. The young women saw her and called her happy; the queens and the slave women also praised her.
Who is that young woman that shines out like the dawn? She is as pretty as the moon, as bright as the sun, as wonderful as an army flying flags.
I went down into the orchard of nut trees to see the blossoms of the valley, to look for buds on the vines, to see if the pomegranate trees had bloomed.
Before I realized it, my desire for you made me feel like a prince in a chariot.
Come back, come back, woman of Shulam. Come back, come back, so we may look at you! as you would at the dance of two armies?