1 As the chorus of 'Mahanaim.' How beautiful were thy feet with sandals, O daughter of Nadib. The turnings of thy sides 'are' as ornaments, Work of the hands of an artificer.
2 Thy waist 'is' a basin of roundness, It lacketh not the mixture, Thy body a heap of wheat, fenced with lilies,
3 Thy two breasts as two young ones, twins of a roe,
4 Thy neck as a tower of the ivory, Thine eyes pools in Heshbon, near the gate of Bath-Rabbim, Thy face as a tower of Lebanon looking to Damascus,
5 Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!
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