Like the skin of a pomegranate, so are your cheeks, except for your hiddenness.
Your teeth are like flocks of shorn sheep, which ascend from the washing, each one with its identical twin, and not one among them is barren.
Your teeth are like a flock of sheep, which have ascended from the washing, each one with its identical twin, and not one among them is barren.
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens without number.
And seeing a certain fig tree beside the way, he approached it. And he found nothing on it, except only leaves. And he said to it, "May fruit never spring forth from you, for all time." And immediately the fig tree was dried up.
And cast that useless servant into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'