Singing of the songs. Chapter six. Where your beloved has gone, Oh, the most beautiful of all women, Where your beloved has gone and we will seek him with you. My beloved went down into his garden, into the threshing floor of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather the lilies. I am my beloved' s, and my beloved is mine ; he feedeth among the fair lilies, thou art, O my friend, as a snare to desire, as a mighty Jerusalem, as armies in order.
Turn your eyes away from me, for they have overcome me. Your hair is like a herd of goats lying on the slopes of galaad. Your teeth are like flocks of sheep coming up from the laundromat, all with young, twins and barren. There is not among them how pomegranate pups are your cheeks behind your veil sixty are the queens and eighty are the concubines and the maidens without number but One is the dove of mine, the perfect one of mine, is the only one of her mother, the chosen one of her
who gave birth to her. The maidens saw her and called her blessed by the queens and concubines and praised her. Who is this that is shown as the beautiful dawn, as the enlightened moon, as the mighty sun, as armies in order to the garden of the Nogales. I went down to see the fruits of the valley and to see if the vines sprouted, if the pomegranates flourished. Before I knew it, my soul stood among the mincers Turn back, return? Oh, sullamite, turn around? Turn around? And
we' ll look at it? What will you see in the Shulammite something like the meeting of two camps