Chapter 6

  Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee?  

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  My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.  

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  I [am] my beloved's, and my beloved [is] mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.  

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  Fair [art] thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.  

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  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,  

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  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.  

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  As the work of the pomegranate [is] thy temple behind thy veil.  

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  Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number.  

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  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.  

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  'Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?'  

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  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 --  

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  I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib.  

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  Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?  

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