4 My beloved thrust his hand into the opening, and my inmost yearned for him.
5 I myself arose to open to my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh upon the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened myself to my beloved, but my beloved had turned and gone; my heart sank when he turned away. I sought him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me.
7 The sentinels making rounds in the city found me; they beat me, they wounded me; they took my cloak away from me— those sentinels on the walls!
8 I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!
9 How is your beloved better than another lover, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another lover, that you adjure us thus?
10 My beloved is radiant and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand.