4 Groom to Bride: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my immaculate one. For my head is full of dew, and the locks of my hair are full of the drops of the night.
5 Bride: I have taken off my tunic; how shall I be clothed in it? I have washed my feet; how shall I spoil them?
6 My beloved put his hand through the window, and my inner self was moved by his touch.
7 I rose up in order to open to my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers were full of the finest myrrh.
8 I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved. But he had turned aside and had gone away. My soul melted when he spoke. I sought him, and did not find him. I called, and he did not answer me.
9 The keepers who circulate through the city found me. They struck me, and wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me.
10 I bind you by oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, announce to him that I languish through love.