Sustain me with raisin-cakes, refresh me with apples, - for sick with love, I am.

Come! I must arise, and go about in the city, In the paths and in the broadways, I must seek the beloved of my soul, - I sought him, but found him not.

I adjure you, ye daughters of Jerusalem, - If ye find my beloved, what will ye tell him? That, sick with love, I am.

DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEMWhither hath thy beloved, gone, thou most beautiful among women? whither hath thy beloved turned him aside? That we may seek him with thee.