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6 I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself; he was gone: My soul went forth when he spoke.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.
8 I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, ... What will ye tell him? -- That I am sick of love.
9 What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, Thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than [another] beloved, That thou dost so charge us?
Share this page