While the king is at his table, My spikenard sends forth its fragrance. A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, That lies all night between my breasts. My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blooms In the vineyards of En Gedi. Behold, you are fair, my love! Behold, you are fair! You have dove’s eyes. Behold, you are handsome, my beloved! Yes, pleasant! Also our bed is green. The beams of our houses are cedar, And our rafters of fir.
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