Catholic Public Domain Version
"Chorus to Groom: Who is she, who advances like the rising dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as elect as the sun, as terrible as an army in battle array? "
— Song Of Solomon 6:9, Catholic Public Domain Version
“My dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.”
“My dove, my undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; Yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her. ”
“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, and they praised her.”
“But she is unique! My dove, my perfect one! She is the special daughter of her mother, she is the favorite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and complimented her; the queens and concubines praised her:”
“Who is she that cometh forth as the morning rising, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in array?”
“My dove, my very beautiful one, is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the dearest one of her who gave her birth. The daughters saw her, and gave her a blessing; yes, the queens and the servant-wives, and they gave her praises.”
“My dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.”
Like the skin of a pomegranate, so are your cheeks, except for your hiddenness.
There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and maidens without number.
One is my dove, my perfect one. One is her mother; elect is she who bore her. The daughters saw her, and they proclaimed her most blessed. The queens and concubines saw her, and they praised her.
Chorus to Groom: Who is she, who advances like the rising dawn, as beautiful as the moon, as elect as the sun, as terrible as an army in battle array?
Bride: I descended to the garden of nuts, in order to see the fruits of the steep valleys, and to examine whether the vineyard had flourished and the pomegranates had produced buds.
I did not understand. My soul was stirred up within me because of the chariots of Amminadab.
Chorus to Bride: Return, return, O Sulamitess. Return, return, so that we may consider you.