You are the most beautiful among women, where has your beloved gone. Where has your beloved turned, so that we may go with you to search for him.

My beloved goes down into his own garden to the fragrant flower bed, where he grazes his flock and collects lilies.

I belong to my beloved, and my beloved also belongs to me. He grazed a flock of sheep among the lilies.

My beloved, you are as beautiful as Caesar, as beautiful as Jerusalem, and as mighty as an army with banners.

Please turn your eyes away from me, for your eyes have caused me confusion. Your hair is like a flock of goats lying by the side of Mount Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, washed up. Everyone has twins, not a single one has lost their child.

Your two suns are inside your handkerchief, like a pomegranate.

There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, as well as countless virgins.

My pigeon, my perfect person, only this one is her mother’s only child. It is beloved by those who have given birth to her. When the women saw her, they called her blessed. The queen and concubines praised her when they saw her.

Who is that who looks out like the morning light, beautiful like the moon, bright like the sun, majestic like an army spreading flags?

I entered the walnut orchard to see the green plants in the valley, whether the grapes had sprouted or the pomegranates had bloomed.

Unconsciously, my heart has placed me in the car of my elder.

Come back, come back, Shulami girl. You come back, you come back, so we have to watch you. Why do you want to watch the Shulamites, like those who watch Mahanaim dancing?