6Thy teeth as a row of the lambs, That have come up from the washing, Because all of them are forming twins, And a bereaved one is not among them.
7As the work of the pomegranate [is] thy temple behind thy veil.
8Sixty are queens, and eighty concubines, And virgins without number.
9One is my dove, my perfect one, One she [is] of her mother, The choice one she [is] of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.
10`Who [is] this that is looking forth as morning, Fair as the moon -- clear as the sun, Awe-inspiring as bannered hosts?`
11Unto a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see whither the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed --
12I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib.
