2 I sleep, but my heart wakes: it is the voice of my beloved that knocks, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
3 I have put off my robe; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how could I soil them?
4 My beloved put in his hand by the latch of the door, and my heart was thrilled for him.
5 I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spoke: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7 The watchmen that went about the city found me, they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
8 I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him, that I am sick with love.