7 The sentinels making rounds in the city found me; they beat me, they wounded me; they took my cloak away from me— those sentinels on the walls!
8 I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!
9 How is your beloved better than another lover, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another lover, that you adjure us thus?
10 My beloved is radiant and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand.
11 His head is gold, refined gold; his locks are wavy, black as a raven.
12 His eyes are like doves beside springs of water, bathed in milk, set like mounted jewels.
13 His cheeks are like beds of spice, a tower of fragrances; his lips are lilies dripping liquid myrrh.