“Why should you gaze at the Shulammite, As at the dance of the two armies? “How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O prince’s daughter! The curves of your hips are like jewels, The work of the hands of an artist.
[Then her companions began noticing and commenting on the attractiveness of her person] How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O queenly maiden! Your rounded limbs are like jeweled chains, the work of a master hand.
What shalt thou see in the Sulamitess but the companies of camps? How beautiful are thy steps in shoes, O prince's daughter! The joints of thy thighs are like jewels, that are made by the hand of a skillful workman.
1 The beauty of the Church in all her members. 10 She is assured of Christ’s love towards her. How beautiful are thy goings with shoes, O prince’s daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels: the work of the hand of a cunning workman.
Shapely and graceful your sandaled feet, and queenly your movement— Your limbs are lithe and elegant, the work of a master artist. Your body is a chalice, wine-filled. Your skin is silken and tawny like a field of wheat touched by the breeze. Your breasts are like fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is carved ivory, curved and slender. Your eyes are wells of light, deep with mystery. Quintessentially feminine! Your profile turns all heads, commanding attention. The feelings I get when I see the high mountain ranges —stirrings of desire, longings for the heights— Remind me of you, and I’m spoiled for anyone else! Your beauty, within and without, is absolute, dear lover, close companion. You are tall and supple, like the palm tree, and your full breasts are like sweet clusters of dates. I say, “I’m going to climb that palm tree! I’m going to caress its fruit!” Oh yes! Your breasts will be clusters of sweet fruit to me, Your breath clean and cool like fresh mint, your tongue and lips like the best wine.
How beautiful on the mountainsare the sandaled feet of this one bringing such good news.You are truly royalty!The way you walk so gracefully in my waysdisplays such dignity.You are truly the poetry of God—his very handiwork.
Daughter of the prince, thy goings be full fair in shoes; the jointures of thy hips be as brooches, that be made by the hand of a craftsman. (Daughter of the prince, thy feet be so beautiful in thy shoes; the curves of thy hips be like brooches, that be made by the hand of a craftsman.)
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