^{1 Ref} Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, lo, thou `art' fair, Thine eyes `are' doves behind thy veil, Thy hair as a row of the goats That have shone from mount Gilead,

^{2 Ref} Thy teeth as a row of the shorn ones That have come up from the washing, For all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.

^{3 Ref} As a thread of scarlet `are' thy lips, And thy speech `is' comely, As the work of the pomegranate `is' thy temple behind thy veil,

^{4 Ref} As the tower of David `is' thy neck, built for an armoury, The chief of the shields are hung on it, All shields of the mighty.

^{5 Ref} Thy two breasts `are' as two fawns, Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies.