'I have come into my garden, my sister, my
bride; I have gathered my myrrh along with my balsam. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and drink deeply, lovers.'
'I was asleep but my heart was awake. A voice! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with dew, My locks with the dew drops of the night.’
I have taken off my dress, How can I put it on again?
I have washed my feet, How can I dirty them again?
My beloved extended his hand through the opening, And my feelings were stirred for him.
I arose to open to my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with drops of myrrh, On the handles of the bolt.
I opened to my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and
had gone! My heart went out to him
as he spoke. I searched for him but I did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me.
The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me, They struck me and
wounded me; The guards of the walls took my shawl away from me.
Swear to me, you daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, As to what you will tell him: For I am lovesick.'
'What kind of beloved is your beloved, O most beautiful among women? What kind of beloved is your beloved, That you make us swear in this way?'