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Where has your darling gone,
you most beautiful of women?
Which way did your darling turn,
so that we can help you find him?


My darling went down to his garden,
to the beds of spices,
to pasture his flock in the gardens
and to gather lilies.
I belong to the man I love, and he belongs to me;
he pastures his flock among the lilies.


You are as beautiful as Tirtzah, my love,
as lovely as Yerushalayim,
but formidable as an army
marching under banners.
Turn your eyes away from me,
because they overwhelm me!

Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down Gil‘ad.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep
that have just come up from being washed;
each of them is matched,
and none of them is missing.
Your cheeks are like a pomegranate
split open behind your veil.

There are sixty queens and eighty concubines,
as well as young women beyond number;
but my dove, my perfect one, is unique,
her mother’s only child,
the darling of the one who bore her.
The daughters see her and call her happy;
the queens and concubines praise her.
10 “Who is this, shining forth like the dawn,
fair as the moon, bright as the sun” —
but formidable as an army
marching under banners?


11 I had gone down to the nut orchard
to see the fresh green plants in the valley,
to see if the vine had budded,
or if the pomegranate trees were in bloom.
12 Before I knew it, I found myself
in a chariot, and with me was a prince.

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