You have taken away my heart, my sister, my bride; you have taken away my heart, with one look you have taken it, with one chain of your neck!

How fair is your love, my sister! How much better is your love than wine, and the smell of your oils than any perfume!

A garden walled-in is my sister, my bride; a garden shut up, a spring of water stopped.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; to take my myrrh with my spice; my wax with my honey; my wine with my milk. Take meat, O friends; take wine, yes, be overcome with love.

I am sleeping, but my heart is awake; it is the sound of my loved one at the door, saying, Be open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my very beautiful one; my head is wet with dew, and my hair with the drops of the night.

We have a young sister, and she has no breasts; what are we to do for our sister in the day when she is given to a man?