Song of Solomon 6:7–9

There are sixty queens and eighty concubines,

and virgins without number.

My dove, my perfect one, is the only one,

the only one of her mother,

pure to her who bore her.

The young women saw her and called her blessed;

the queens and concubines also, and they praised her.

“Who is this who looks down like the dawn,

beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun,

awesome as an army with banners?”

Sixty queens there may be,

and eighty concubines,

and virgins beyond number;

but my dove, my perfect one, is unique,

the only daughter of her mother,

the favorite of the one who bore her.

The young women saw her and called her blessed;

the queens and concubines praised her.

Who is this that appears like the dawn,

fair as the moon, bright as the sun,

majestic as the stars in procession?

There are sixty queens

and eighty concubines

and young women without number.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique;

she is the favorite of her mother,

perfect to the one who gave her birth.

Women see her and declare her fortunate;

queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises:

Who is this who shines like the dawn,

as beautiful as the moon,

bright as the sun,

awe-inspiring as an army with banners?

Even among sixty queens

and eighty concubines

and countless young women,

I would still choose my dove, my perfect one—

the favorite of her mother,

dearly loved by the one who bore her.

The young women see her and praise her;

even queens and royal concubines sing her praises:

“Who is this, arising like the dawn,

as fair as the moon,

as bright as the sun,

as majestic as an army with billowing banners?”

Sixty queens there are, eighty concubines,

and maidens beyond number.

My dove, she is the one;

my perfect, she is the only one;

she is the favorite of her mother who bore her.

Maidens see her and consider her fortunate;

queens and concubines praise her:

“Who is this that looks down like the dawn,

beautiful as the moon,

bright as the sun,

overwhelming as an army with banners?”

There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines,

And virgins without number.

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.

Who is she that looketh forth as the morning,

Fair as the moon, clear as the sun,

And terrible as an army with banners?