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

SHEUpon my couch, in the night-time, sought I the beloved of my soul, - I sought him, but found him not.

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: