If you do not know, most beautiful among women, follow the tracks of the sheep. Graze your young goats beside the shepherds' tents.

Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of Bether.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love. Behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is as a flock of goats, that descend from Mount Gilead.

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

Until the day is cool, and the shadows flee away, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of frankincense.

Awake, north wind; and come, you south. Blow on my garden, that its spices may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and taste his precious fruits.

Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.

I went down into the nut tree grove, to see the green plants of the valley, to see whether the vine budded, and the pomegranates were in flower.