Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you feed, where you make your flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of your companions?

If you know not, O you fairest among women, go your way forth in the footsteps of the flock, and feed your kids beside the shepherds' tents.

Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies.

I have put off my robe; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how could I soil them?

My beloved has gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed his flock in the gardens, and to gather lilies.

How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O prince's daughter! the curves of your thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a skillful craftsman.