“On my bed night after night I sought him
Whom my soul loves;
I sought him but did not find him.

A bag of myrrh, is my beloved to me, between my breasts, shall it tarry the night!

All of them, grasping the sword, trained for war, - every man, with his sword upon his thigh, because of dread, in the night-time.

SHEI, was sleeping, but, my heart, was awake, - The voice of my beloved - knocking! Open to me, my sister, my fair one, my dove, my perfect one, for, my head, is filled with dew, my locks, with the moisture of the night.

Come, my beloved, Let us go forth into the country, Let us stay the night in the villages: