There are sixty queens
And eighty concubines,
And (A)virgins without number.
My dove, my (B)perfect one,
Is the only one,
The only one of her mother,
The favorite of the one who bore her.
The daughters saw her
And called her blessed,
The queens and the concubines,
And they praised her.

10 Who is she who looks forth as the morning,
Fair as the moon,
Clear as the sun,
(C)Awesome as an army with banners?

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