Song of Solomon 6
1 Whither is thy friend gone, O fairest of women? whither hath thy friend turned himself? that we may seek him with thee?—
To where has your beloved gone, O beautiful among women? To where has your beloved turned, And we seek him with you?
2 My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
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 friend's, and my friend is mine: he that feedeth among the lilies.—
I [am] my beloved’s, and my beloved [is] mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.
4 Thou art beautiful, O my beloved, like Thirzah, comely like Jerusalem, terrible as armies encamped round their banners.
You [are] beautiful, my friend, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts.
5 Turn away thy eyes from me, for they have excited me: thy hair is like a flock of goats that come quietly down from mount Gil'ad.
Turn around your eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Your hair [is] as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,
6 Thy teeth are like a flock of ewes which are come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and there is not one among them that is deprived of her young.
Your teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.
7 Like the half of the pomegranate is the upper part of thy cheek behind thy vail.
As the work of the pomegranate [is] your temple behind your veil.
8 Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines, and the young women without number;
Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number.
9 But one alone is my dove, my guiltless one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the chosen of her that bore her: maidens see her, and call her happy; yea, queens and concubines, and praise her.
One is my dove, my perfect one, She [is] one of her mother, She [is] the choice one of her that bore her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her blessed, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.
10 Who is this that shineth forth like the morning-dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as armies encamped round their banners?
“Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, Beautiful as the moon—clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?”
11 Into the nut-garden was I gone down, to look about among the plants of the valley, to see whether the vine had blossomed, whether the pomegranates had budded.
To a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see to where the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed—
12 I knew not [how it was], my soul made me [like] the chariots of my noble people.
I did not know my soul, It made me—chariots of my people Nadib.
13 Return, return, O Shulammith; return, return, that we may look upon thee. “What will ye see in the Shulammith?” As though it were the dance of a double company.
Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look on you. What do you see in Shulammith?
