2 I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, 'saying', Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.
3 I have put off my garment; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
4 My beloved put in his hand by the hole 'of the door', And my heart was moved for him.
5 I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands droppeth with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, 'and' was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
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