All of them are skilled with a sword, ¹  well-trained in the art of warfare. ²  Each has his sword at his side, to guard against the terrors of the night.

Like a slice of pomegranate is your forehead ¹  behind your veil.

My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. ¹  Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the window, peering through the lattice.

Your lips are like a scarlet thread; ¹  your mouth is lovely. Your forehead ²  behind your veil is like a slice of pomegranate.

Turn your eyes away from me – they overwhelm ¹  me! Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.

The Lover to His Beloved: O my dove, ¹  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, ²  you are beautiful, my darling! ³  Oh, you are beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are like doves. ⁴  Your hair is like a flock of female goats descending ⁵  from Mount Gilead.