If you do not know, O most beautiful among women, follow in the tracks of the flock, and pasture your young goats beside the shepherds’ tents.
I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.
Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments, your neck with strings of jewels.
We will make for you ornaments of gold, studded with silver.
While the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance.
My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh that lies between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of Engedi.
Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.