I have come into my garden, my brother, my bridegroom. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Friends Eat, friends! Drink, yes, drink abundantly, beloved. Beloved

I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my beloved who knocks: "Open to me, my brother, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night."

I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on? I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?

My beloved thrust her hand in through the latch opening. My heart pounded for her.

I rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved left; and had gone away. My heart went out when she spoke. I looked for her, but I didn't find her. I called her, but she didn't answer.

The watchwomen who go about the city found me. They beat me. They bruised me. The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.

I adjure you, sons of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, that you tell her that I am faint with love. Friends

How is your beloved better than another beloved, you fairest among men? How is your beloved better than another beloved, that you do so adjure us? Beloved

My beloved is white and ruddy. The best among ten thousand.

Her head is like the purest gold. Her hair is bushy, black as a raven.

Her eyes are like doves beside the water brooks, washed with milk, mounted like jewels.

Her cheeks are like a bed of spices with towers of perfumes. Her lips are like lilies, dropping liquid myrrh.

Her hands are like rings of gold set with beryl. Her body is like ivory work overlaid with sapphires.

Her legs are like pillars of marble set on sockets of fine gold. Hers appearance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

Her mouth is sweetness; yes, she is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, sons of Jerusalem. Friends