Behold, you are fair, my love; behold, you are fair; you have doves' eyes behind your veil: your hair is like a flock of goats, going down from mount Gilead.

Your lips are like a thread of scarlet, and your mouth is lovely: your temples are like a piece of pomegranate behind your veil.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

As a piece of a pomegranate are your temples behind your veil.