My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secrecy of the steep place, let Me see your form. Let Me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your form is beautiful.
Behold, you are beautiful, My love. Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are as doves’ from behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats which recline from Mount Gilead.
But My dove, My perfect one is one alone. She is the only one to her mother; she is pure to the one who bore her. The daughters saw her and called her blessed; the queens and the concubines saw her, and they praised her.