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Cantique des cantiquesChapitre 6

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Where has your beloved gone, most beautiful of women? Which way has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?
My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to graze in the gardens and to gather lilies.
I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he grazes among the lilies.
You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my love, as lovely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners.
Turn your eyes away from me, for they overwhelm me. Your hair is like a flock of goats streaming down from Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of ewes coming up from the washing, each one bearing twins, and not one among them bereaved.
Your cheek behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.
There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, and maidens beyond number—
but she is the only one, my dove, my perfect one, the only child of her mother, the favorite of the one who bore her. The daughters saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her.
Who is this that shines forth like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?
I went down to the nut orchard to see the new growth of the valley, to see whether the vine had budded, whether the pomegranates were in bloom.
Before I knew it, my desire had set me among the chariots of my princely people.
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