I am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! 'Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled with dew, My locks with drops of the night.'

I rose to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped myrrh, Yea, my fingers flowing myrrh, On the handles of the lock.

Return, return, O Shulammith! Return, return, and we look upon thee. What do ye see in Shulammith?

Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!

Many waters are not able to quench the love, And floods do not wash it away. If one give all the wealth of his house for love, Treading down -- they tread upon it.