The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls!
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you— if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him I am faint with love.
How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? How is your beloved better than others, that you so charge us?
My beloved is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves by the water streams, washed in milk, mounted like jewels.
His cheeks are like beds of spice yielding perfume. His lips are like lilies dripping with myrrh.
His arms are rods of gold set with topaz. His body is like polished ivory decorated with lapis lazuli.
His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars.
His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.