I was sleeping, but my heart was awake. A sound! My love was knocking! Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. For my head is drenched with dew, my hair with droplets of the night.
I have taken off my clothing. How can I put it back on? I have washed my feet. How can I get them dirty?
My love thrust his hand through the opening, and my feelings were stirred for him.
I rose to open for my love. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.
I opened to my love, but my love had turned and gone away. My heart sank because he had left. I sought him, but did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer.
The guards who go about the city found me. They beat and wounded me; they took my cloak from me— the guardians of the walls.
Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you, if you find my love, tell him that I am lovesick.
