Where has your beloved gone, O fairest among women? Where has your beloved turned? That we may seek him with you.

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to beds of spices, to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine; he pastures among the lilies.

You are beautiful, my companion, like Tirzah, lovely like Yerushalayim, awesome like banners unfurled.

Turn your eyes away from me, for they have made me bold. Your hair is like a flock of goats, cascading down from Gil'ad.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, having just come up from the washing; every one of them has twins, and none is barren among them.

Your temples are like a slice of pomegranate behind your veil.

There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and virgins without number.

But one is my dove, my perfect one, the only one of her mother, the favorite of her who bore her. Daughters saw her and called her blessed; queens and concubines saw her and praised her.

Who is this who looks forth like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, radiant as the sun, awesome like banners unfurled?

I went down to the nut garden to look at the new growth of the valley, to see if the vine had budded, if the pomegranates had bloomed.

I did not know, my soul made me like the chariots of my noble people.