Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you feed, where you make your flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of your companions?

I charge you, O you daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the hinds of the field, that you stir not up, nor awake love, till it pleases.

I charge you, O you daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the hinds of the field, that you stir not up, nor awake my love, till it pleases.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him, that I am sick with love.

You that dwell in the gardens, the companions listen for your voice: let me hear it.