My beloved, thrust in his hand, at the window, and, my feelings, were deeply moved for him:

The love-apples, have given fragrance, and, at our openings, are all precious things, new and yet old, - O my beloved! I have treasured them up for thee.

Resembleth, my beloved, a gazelle, or a young stag, - Lo! here he is, standing behind our wall, looking in at the windows, peeping in at the lattice.

SHEI, was sleeping, but, my heart, was awake, - The voice of my beloved - knocking! Open to me, my sister, my fair one, my dove, my perfect one, for, my head, is filled with dew, my locks, with the moisture of the night.

I myself, arose, to open to my beloved, - and, my hands, dripped with myrrh, and, my fingers, with myrrh distilling, upon the handles of the bolt.

I myself, opened to my beloved, but, my beloved, had turned away, had passed on, - My soul, had gone out when he spake, I sought him, but found him not, I called him, but he answered not.

Let us get up early to the vineyards, Let us see whether the vine, hath burst forth, the blossom, hath opened, the pomegranates, have bloomed, - There, will I give my caresses to thee.