9 One 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?'
11 Unto 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--
12 I knew not my soul, It made me--chariots of my people Nadib.
13 Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?