As a bag of myrrh is my well-loved one to me, when he is at rest all night between my breasts.

By night on my bed I was looking for him who is the love of my soul: I was looking for him, but I did not see him.

All of them armed with swords, trained in war; every man has his sword at his side, because of fear in the night.

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.