2
The Shulamite My beloved has gone to his garden, To the beds of spices, To feed his flock in the gardens, And to gather lilies.
3
I am my beloved's, And my beloved is mine. He feeds his flock among the lilies.
4
The Beloved O my love, you are as beautiful as Tirzah, Lovely as Jerusalem, Awesome as an army with banners!
5
Turn your eyes away from me, For they have overcome me. Your hair is like a flock of goats Going down from Gilead.
6
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep Which have come up from the washing; Every one bears twins, And none is barren among them.
7
Like a piece of pomegranate Are your temples behind your veil.
8
There are sixty queens And eighty concubines, And virgins without number.
9
My dove, my perfect one, Is the only one, The only one of her mother, The favorite of the one who bore her. The daughters saw her And called her blessed, The queens and the concubines, And they praised her.
10
Who is she who looks forth as the morning, Fair as the moon, Clear as the sun, Awesome as an army with banners?
11
The Shulamite I went down to the garden of nuts To see the verdure of the valley, To see whether the vine had budded And the pomegranates had bloomed.
12
Before I was even aware, My soul had made me As the chariots of my noble people.