1 Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee?
2 My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3 I 'am' my beloved's, and my beloved 'is' mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.
4 Fair 'art' thou, my friend, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.
5 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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