I slept, but my heart was awake.
A sound! My beloved is knocking.
“Open to me, my sister, my love,
for my head is wet with dew,
my locks with the drops of the night.”
I had put off my garment;
My beloved put his hand to the latch,
and my heart was thrilled within me.
I arose to open to my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with liquid myrrh,
on the handles of the bolt.
but my beloved had turned and gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke.
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they bruised me,
those watchmen of the walls.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,