Yet my dove, my perfect one is unique. She is her mother’s only one— a virtuous child of the one who bore her. Maidens saw her and called her blessed. Queens and concubines praised her.
My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in a secret place along the steep path, let me see your form, let me hear your voice. For your voice is sweet and your form is lovely.”
I sleep, but my heart is awake. A voice! My lover is knocking! “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with dew, my locks with dewdrops of night.”
From the rocky peaks I see him. From the heights I behold him. Look, he lives as a nation apart, and does not consider himself as being like the other nations.
Happy are you, O Israel! Who is like you, a people saved by Adonai, the Shield of your help and the Sword of your triumph? Your enemies will cower before you, and you will trample on their backs.”