In my bed at night
I sought the one I love;
I sought him, but did not find him.

I will arise now and go about the city,
through the streets and the plazas.
I will seek the one I love.
I sought him, but did not find him.

The guards who go about the city found me.
I asked them, “Have you seen the one I love?”

I had just passed them
when I found the one I love.
I held on to him and would not let him go
until I brought him to my mother’s house—
to the chamber of the one who conceived me.

I opened to my love,
but my love had turned and gone away.
I was crushed that he had left.
I sought him, but did not find him.
I called him, but he did not answer.

The guards who go about the city found me.
They beat and wounded me;
they took my cloak from me—
the guardians of the walls.

Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you:
if you find my love,
tell him that I am lovesick.

If only I could treat you like my brother,
one who nursed at my mother’s breasts,
I would find you in public and kiss you,
and no one would scorn me.