Song of Songs 6

To where has your beloved gone, || O beautiful among women? To where has your beloved turned, || And we seek him with you?

My beloved went down to his garden, || To the beds of the spice, || To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

I [am] my beloved’s, and my beloved [is] mine, || Who is delighting himself among the lilies.

You [are] beautiful, my friend, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, || Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.

Turn around your eyes from before me, || Because they have made me proud. Your hair [is] as a row of the goats, || That have shone from Gilead,

Your teeth as a row of the lambs, || That have come up from the washing, || Because all of them are forming twins, || And a bereaved one is not among them.

As the work of the pomegranate [is] your temple behind your veil.

Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, || And virgins without number.

One is my dove, my perfect one, || She [is] one of her mother, || She [is] the choice one of her that bore her, || Daughters saw, and pronounce her blessed, || Queens and concubines, and they praise her.

“Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, || Beautiful as the moon—clear as the sun, || Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?”

To a garden of nuts I went down, || To look on the buds of the valley, || To see to where the vine had flourished, || The pomegranates had blossomed—

I did not know my soul, || It made me—chariots of my people Nadib.

Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look on you. What do you see in Shulammith?