'My beloved has gone down to his garden, To the beds of balsam, To pasture his flock
in the gardens And gather lilies.
I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine, He who pastures his flock
among the lilies.'
'You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling, As lovely as Jerusalem, As awesome as an army with banners.
Turn your eyes away from me, For they have confused me; Your hair is like a flock of goats That have descended from Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of ewes That have come up from their
watering place, All of which bear twins, And not one among them has lost her young.
Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranate Behind your veil.
There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, And young women without number;