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Where has your beloved gone,
O most beautiful among women?
Where has your beloved turned?
Tell us, that we may seek him with you.

My beloved has gone down to his garden,
to the flowerbeds of balsam spices,
to graze in the gardens,
and to gather lilies.


I am my lover’s and my lover is mine;
he grazes among the lilies.


My darling, you are as beautiful as Tirzah,
as lovely as Jerusalem,
as awe-inspiring as bannered armies!
Turn your eyes away from me –
they overwhelm me!
Your hair is like a flock of goats
descending from Mount Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep
coming up from the washing;
each has its twin;
not one of them is missing.
Like a slice of pomegranate
is your forehead behind your veil.
There may be sixty queens,
and eighty concubines,
and young women without number.
But she is unique!
My dove, my perfect one!
She is the special daughter of her mother,
she is the favorite of the one who bore her.
The maidens saw her and complimented her;
the queens and concubines praised her:
“Who is this who appears like the dawn?
Beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun,
awe-inspiring as the stars in procession?”


I went down to the orchard of walnut trees,
to look for the blossoms of the valley,
to see if the vines had budded
or if the pomegranates were in bloom.
I was beside myself with joy!
There please give me your myrrh,
O daughter of my princely people.


(7:1) Turn, turn, O Perfect One!
Turn, turn, that I may stare at you!

Why do you gaze upon the Perfect One
like the dance of the Mahanaim?

Dengarkan Song of Solomon 6