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

Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. The locks of your hair are like royal tapestries – the king is held captive in its tresses!

Turn your eyes away from me – they overwhelm me! Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.

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.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana, from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon, from the lions’ dens and the mountain haunts of the leopards.