The Song of Songs

My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I [am] my beloved's, and my beloved [is] mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.

Fair [art] thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.

Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair [is] as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,

Thy teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.

As the work of the pomegranate [is] thy temple behind thy veil.

One is my dove, my perfect one, One she [is] of her mother, The choice one she [is] of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.

'Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'

Unto a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see whither the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed --

I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib.

Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?