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Tus mejillas, tras el velo,
    parecen dos mitades de granadas.
Pueden ser sesenta las reinas,
    ochenta las concubinas
    e innumerables las vírgenes,
pero una sola es mi palomita preciosa,
    la hija consentida de su madre,
    la favorita de quien le dio la vida.
Las mujeres la ven y la bendicen;
    las reinas y las concubinas la alaban.

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(A)Like a piece of pomegranate
Are your temples behind your veil.

There are sixty queens
And eighty concubines,
And (B)virgins without number.
My dove, my (C)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.

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(A)Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate
    behind your veil.
There are (B)sixty (C)queens and eighty (D)concubines,
    and (E)virgins without number.
My (F)dove, my (G)perfect one, is the only one,
    the only one of her mother,
    pure to (H)her who bore her.
(I)The young women saw her and called her blessed;
    (J)the queens and (K)concubines also, and they praised her.

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