WHITHER is your beloved gone, the lovely one among women? Whither is your beloved facing? We shall seek him with you.
My darling is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to graze in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
I am my darling's, and my darling is mine: he feeds among the lilies.
You are lovely, my shepherdess, as Tirtsah, comely as Yerushalayim, dreadful as the standard bearers.
Turn away your eyes from me, for they are audacious to me: your hair glistens as a flock of goats that glisten from Gil'ad.
Your teeth are as a drove of ewes when they descend from their washing, each one having twins with no one bereaved.
As a slice of a pomegranate are your temples which appear through your veil.
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and damsels without number.
My dove, my flawless one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the pure one of her that gave birth to her. The daughters see her, and bless her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they shall praise her.
Who is this one gazing at the dawn, lovely as the white moonshine, pure as sunshine, dreadful as the standard bearers?
Into the garden of walnuts I descended to see the inpollen of the watercourse; to see whether the vine budded, and the pomegranates flowered.
I do not know how she placed me as patron in the chariots of my people.
Return, return, O Shulammiyth; return, return, and we shall see you. What you see in the Shulammiyth is like the flute of two camps.