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Dodi (my beloved) is gone down into his gan (garden), to the beds of spices, to feed in the ganim (gardens), and to gather shoshanim (lilies).

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine; he feedeth among the shoshanim.

Thou art yafeh, O my love, as Tirtzah, lovely as Yerushalayim, awe-inspiring as bannered troops on the march.

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