[1] Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Where has your beloved turned? Tell us, that we may seek him with you. [2] My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the flowerbeds of balsam spices, to graze in the gardens, and to gather lilies. [3] I am my lover's and my lover is mine; he grazes among the lilies. [4] My darling, you are as beautiful as Tirzah, as lovely as Jerusalem, as awe-inspiring as bannered armies. [5] Turn your eyes away from me-they overwhelm me! Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead. [6] Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing; each has its twin; not one of them is missing. [7] Like a slice of pomegranate is your forehead behind your veil. [8] There may be sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and young women without number. [9] But she is unique, my dove, my perfect one! She is the special daughter of her mother; she is the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and complimented her; the queens and concubines praised her: [10] "Who is this who appears like the dawn? Beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awe-inspiring as the stars in procession?" [11] I went down to the orchard of walnut trees, to look for the blossoms of the valley, to see if the vines had budded or if the pomegranates were in bloom. [12] I was beside myself with joy! There please give me your myrrh, O daughter of my princely people. [13] (7:1) Turn, turn, O Perfect One! Turn, turn, that I may stare at you! Why do you gaze upon the Perfect One like the dance of the Mahanaim?
