I sleep, but my heart wakes
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends. Drink, and drink deeply, lovers. I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my love, knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one. My head is wet with dew, my hair with the damp of the night. I have taken off my robe — must I put it on again? I have washed my feet — must I get them dirty again? My love put his hand through the opening, and everything in me stirred for him. I got up to open to my love, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt. I opened to my love, but my love had turned away and gone. My heart sank when he spoke. I looked for him and couldn't find him. I called him and he gave me no answer. The watchmen going round the city found me. They struck me. They wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me. Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: if you find my love, tell him I am faint with love.
I've come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I've gathered my myrrh with my spice. I've eaten my honeycomb with my honey. I've drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, mates. Drink, yes, drink plenty, my loves. I sleep, but my heart wakes. It's the voice of my love that knocks: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my clean one. Because my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night. I've taken off my coat — how can I put it on? I've washed my feet — how can I dirty them? My love put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my insides were moved for him. I got up to open to my love, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet-smelling myrrh, on the handles of the lock. I opened to my love, but my love had turned away and gone. My soul failed when he spoke. I looked for him, but I couldn't find him. I called him, but he didn't answer me. The watchmen who go about the town found me. They struck me, they wounded me. The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me. I make you swear, daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my love, that you tell him I'm sick with love.
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. I sleep, but my heart waketh: 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, and my locks with the drops of the night. I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them? My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him. I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. 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. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends. Drink, and drink deeply, lovers.
I've come into my garden, my sister, my bride. I've gathered my myrrh with my spice. I've eaten my honeycomb with my honey. I've drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, mates. Drink, yes, drink plenty, my loves.
I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
I was asleep, but my heart was awake. It is the voice of my love, knocking: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one. My head is wet with dew, my hair with the damp of the night.
I sleep, but my heart wakes. It's the voice of my love that knocks: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my clean one. Because my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
I sleep, but my heart waketh: 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, and my locks with the drops of the night.
I have taken off my robe — must I put it on again? I have washed my feet — must I get them dirty again?
I've taken off my coat — how can I put it on? I've washed my feet — how can I dirty them?
I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
My love put his hand through the opening, and everything in me stirred for him.
My love put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my insides were moved for him.
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.
I got up to open to my love, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt.
I got up to open to my love, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet-smelling myrrh, on the handles of the lock.
I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
I opened to my love, but my love had turned away and gone. My heart sank when he spoke. I looked for him and couldn't find him. I called him and he gave me no answer.
I opened to my love, but my love had turned away and gone. My soul failed when he spoke. I looked for him, but I couldn't find him. I called him, but he didn't answer me.
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
The watchmen going round the city found me. They struck me. They wounded me. The keepers of the walls took my veil away from me.
The watchmen who go about the town found me. They struck me, they wounded me. The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
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.
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: if you find my love, tell him I am faint with love.
I make you swear, daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my love, that you tell him I'm sick with love.
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
What's your love more than another?
What is your love more than another, most beautiful of women? What is your love more than another, that you charge us so? My love is white and ruddy, chief among ten thousand. His head is finest gold. His hair is wavy and black as a raven. His eyes are like doves by rivers of water, washed with milk and fitly set. His cheeks are like a bed of spices, like sweet flowers. His lips are like lilies, dripping sweet-smelling myrrh. His hands are like gold rings set with beryl. His belly is like bright ivory overlaid with sapphires. His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, magnificent as the cedars. His mouth is sweetness itself. He is altogether lovely. This is my love, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
What's your love more than another love, most beautiful of women? What's your love more than another love, that you make us swear like this? My love is white and ruddy, the chief among ten thousand. His head is like the finest gold. His locks are wavy and black as a raven. His eyes are like doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk and fitly set. His cheeks are like a bed of spices, like sweet flowers. His lips are like lilies, dripping sweet-smelling myrrh. His hands are like gold rings set with beryl. His body is like bright ivory covered with sapphires. His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of fine gold. His look is like Lebanon, fine as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet. Yes, he's altogether lovely. This is my love, and this is my mate, daughters of Jerusalem.
What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us? My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.
What is your love more than another, most beautiful of women? What is your love more than another, that you charge us so?
What's your love more than another love, most beautiful of women? What's your love more than another love, that you make us swear like this?
What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?
My love is white and ruddy, chief among ten thousand.
My love is white and ruddy, the chief among ten thousand.
My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is finest gold. His hair is wavy and black as a raven.
His head is like the finest gold. His locks are wavy and black as a raven.
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves by rivers of water, washed with milk and fitly set.
His eyes are like doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk and fitly set.
His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
His cheeks are like a bed of spices, like sweet flowers. His lips are like lilies, dripping sweet-smelling myrrh.
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
His hands are like gold rings set with beryl. His belly is like bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His hands are like gold rings set with beryl. His body is like bright ivory covered with sapphires.
His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of fine gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, magnificent as the cedars.
His legs are like pillars of marble set on bases of fine gold. His look is like Lebanon, fine as the cedars.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
His mouth is sweetness itself. He is altogether lovely. This is my love, and this is my friend, daughters of Jerusalem.
His mouth is most sweet. Yes, he's altogether lovely. This is my love, and this is my mate, daughters of Jerusalem.
His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.