3 -- I have put off my tunic, how should I put it on? I have washed my feet, how should I pollute them? --
4 My beloved put in his hand by the hole [of the door]; And my bowels yearned for him.
5 I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the lock.
6 I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself; he was gone: My soul went forth when he spoke. I sought him, but I found him not; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
7 The watchmen that went about the city found me; They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
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