The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, how beautiful you are, my beloved! Oh, how beautiful you are! Your eyes are like doves!

His eyes are like doves by streams of water, washed in milk, mounted like jewels.

The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places of the mountain crags, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

The Lover to His Beloved: Oh, you are beautiful, my darling! Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. Your hair is like a flock of female goats descending from Mount Gilead.

But she is unique! My dove, my perfect one! She is the special daughter of her mother, she is the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and complimented her; the queens and concubines praised her:

The Beloved about Her Lover: I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming. Listen! My lover is knocking at the door! The Lover to His Beloved: “Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one! My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”