O ne is my dove, my perfect one, One she of her mother, The choice one she of her that bare her, Daughters saw, and pronounce her happy, Queens and concubines, and they praise her.
But my dove, my undefiled and perfect one, stands alone; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her and called her blessed and happy, yes, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
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