1 Whither is thy friend gone, O fairest of women? whither hath thy friend turned himself? that we may seek him with thee?
2 My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3 I am my friends, and my friend is mine: he that feedeth among the lilies.
4 Thou art beautiful, O my beloved, like Thirzah, comely like Jerusalem, terrible as armies encamped round their banners.
5 Turn away thy eyes from me, for they have excited me: thy hair is like a flock of goats that come quietly down from mount Gilad.
6 Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young.
7 Like the half of the pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail.
8 Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines, and the young women without number;
9 But one alone is my dove, my guiltless one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the chosen of her that bore her: maidens see her, and call her happy; yea, queens and concubines, and praise her.
10 Who is this that shineth forth like the morningdawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as armies encamped round their banners?
11 Into the nutgarden was I gone down, to look about among the plants of the valley, to see whether the vine had blossomed, whether the pomegranates had budded.
12 I knew not how it was, my soul made me like the chariots of my noble people.
13 (7:1) Return, return, O Shulammith; return, return, that we may look upon thee. "What will ye see in the Shulammith?" As though it were the dance of a double company.