My dove, in the hidden places of the rocks, in the secret places of the cliffs, show me your form, and let me hear your voice. For your voice is pleasant, and your shape is lovely.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes behind your veil are doves, your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep about to be sheared, who are coming up from being washed. All of them are twins, not one has lost her young.

I was asleep, but my heart was awake. There's a sound! My beloved is knocking. "Open up for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. For my head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

His head is pure gold, his hair is wavy, black like a raven.

Turn your eyes from me, for they excite me. Your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Your teeth are like a flock of ewes coming up from being washed. All of them are twins, not one has lost her young.

but my dove, my perfect one, is unique. She's unique to her mother, she's pure to the one who gave birth to her. Young women see her and call her blessed, queens and mistresses praise her.

Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her beloved? Under theapple tree I awakened you. There your mother had gone into labor with you; there she went into labor and gave birth to you.

We have a little sister, and she has not yet reached maturity. What will we do for our sister to prepare her for her engagement?

If she's a wall, on her we will build a battlement of silver. If she's a door, we will enclose her with planks of cedar.

You who sit in the gardens, companions are listening for your voice, but let me hear it.