5 Your teeth are like a flock of sheep, which have ascended from the washing, each one with its identical twin, and not one among them is barren.
6 Like the skin of a pomegranate, so are your cheeks, except for your hiddenness.
7 There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens without number.
8 One is my dove, my perfect one. One is her mother; elect is she who bore her. The daughters saw her, and they proclaimed her most blessed. The queens and concubines saw her, and they praised her.
9 Chorus to Groom: Who is she, who advances like the rising dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as elect as the sun, as terrible as an army in battle array?
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