Tell me, thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock, Where thou makest it to rest at noon; For why should I be as one veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?

I have put off my tunic, how should I put it on? I have washed my feet, how should I pollute them? --

Oh that thou wert as my brother, That sucked the breasts of my mother! Should I find thee without, I would kiss thee; And they would not despise me.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, ... Why should ye stir up, why awake my love, till he please?