I am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! 'Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled with dew, My locks with drops of the night.'

I rose to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped myrrh, Yea, my fingers flowing myrrh, On the handles of the lock.

His head is pure gold -- fine gold, His locks flowing, dark as a raven,

Thy head upon thee as Carmel, And the locks of thy head as purple, The king is bound with the flowings!