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¹ Whither has your beloved gone, O fairest among women? Whither has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?² My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to pasture his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies.³ I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he pastures his flock among the lilies.

⁴ You are beautiful as Tirzah, my love, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.⁵ Turn away your eyes from me, for they disturb me--Your hair is like a flock of goats, moving down the slopes of Gilead.⁶ Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, that have come up from the washing, all of them bear twins, not one among them is bereaved.⁷ Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate behind your veil.⁸ There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, and maidens without number.⁹ My dove, my perfect one, is only one, the darling of her mother, flawless to her that bore her. The maidens saw her and called her happy; the queens and concubines also, and they praised her.¹⁰ "Who is this that looks forth like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army with banners?"

¹¹ I went down to the nut orchard, to look at the blossoms of the valley, to see whether the vines had budded, whether the pomegranates were in bloom.¹² Before I was aware, my fancy set me in a chariot beside my prince.¹³ Return, return, O Shu'lammite, return, return, that we may look upon you. Why should you look upon the Shu'lammite, as upon a dance before two armies?