11 Garlands of gold we do make for thee, With studs of silver!
12 While the king 'is' in his circle, My spikenard hath given its fragrance.
13 A bundle of myrrh 'is' my beloved to me, Between my breasts it lodgeth.
14 A cluster of cypress 'is' my beloved to me, In the vineyards of En-Gedi!
15 Lo, thou 'art' fair, my friend, Lo, thou 'art' fair, thine eyes 'are' doves!
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