Your teeth are like a flock of ewes, which have come up from the washing, of which every one has twins; not one is bereaved among them.
Your temples are like a piece of a pomegranate behind your veil.
There are sixty queens, eighty concubines, and virgins without number.
My dove, my perfect one, is unique.
She is her mother’s only daughter.
She is the favorite one of her who bore her.
The daughters saw her, and called her blessed.
The queens and the concubines saw her, and they praised her.