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Song of Solomon
1 Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee? 2 My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies. 3 I `am' my beloved's, and my beloved `is' mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies. 4 Fair `art' thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts. 5 Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair `is' as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead, 6 Thy 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. 7 As the work of the pomegranate `is' thy temple behind thy veil. 8 Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number. 9 One is my dove, my perfect one, One she `is' of her mother, The choice one she `is' of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her. 10 `Who `is' this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?' 11 Unto a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see whither the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed -- 12 I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib. 13 Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?
1 Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee? 2 My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies. 3 I `am' my beloved's, and my beloved `is' mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies. 4 Fair `art' thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts. 5 Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair `is' as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead, 6 Thy 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. 7 As the work of the pomegranate `is' thy temple behind thy veil. 8 Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number. 9 One is my dove, my perfect one, One she `is' of her mother, The choice one she `is' of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her. 10 `Who `is' this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?' 11 Unto a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see whither the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed -- 12 I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib. 13 Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?
