| Lover | |
| I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; | |
| I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. | |
| I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; | |
| I have drunk my wine and my milk. | |
| | 5 |
| Friends | |
| Eat, O friends, and drink; | |
| drink your fill, O lovers. | |
| Beloved | |
| I slept but my heart was awake. | 10 |
| Listen! My lover is knocking: | |
| "Open to me, my sister, my darling, | |
| my dove, my flawless one. | |
| My head is drenched with dew, | |
| my hair with the dampness of the night." | 15 |
| |
| I have taken off my robe— | |
| must I put it on again? | |
| I have washed my feet— | |
| must I soil them again? | |
| |
| My lover thrust his hand through the latch-opening; | 20 |
| my heart began to pound for him. | |
| |
| I arose to open for my lover, | |
| and my hands dripped with myrrh, | |
| my fingers with flowing myrrh, | |
| on the handles of the lock. | 25 |
| |
| I opened for my lover, | |
| but my lover had left; he was gone. | |
| My heart sank at his departure. | |
| I looked for him but did not find him. | |
| I called him but he did not answer. | 30 |
| |
| The watchmen found me | |
| as they made their rounds in the city. | |
| They beat me, they bruised me; | |
| they took away my cloak, | |
| those watchmen of the walls! | 35 |
| |
| O daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you— | |
| if you find my lover, | |
| what will you tell him? | |
| Tell him I am faint with love. | |
| Friends | 40 |
| How is your beloved better than others, | |
| most beautiful of women? | |
| How is your beloved better than others, | |
| that you charge us so? | |
| Beloved | 45 |
| My lover is radiant and ruddy, | |
| outstanding among ten thousand. | |
| |
| His head is purest gold; | |
| his hair is wavy | |
| and black as a raven. | 50 |
| |
| His eyes are like doves | |
| by the water streams, | |
| washed in milk, | |
| mounted like jewels. | |
| |
| His cheeks are like beds of spice | 55 |
| yielding perfume. | |
| His lips are like lilies | |
| dripping with myrrh. | |
| |
| His arms are rods of gold | |
| set with chrysolite. | 60 |
| His body is like polished ivory | |
| decorated with sapphires. | |
| |
| His legs are pillars of marble | |
| set on bases of pure gold. | |
| His appearance is like Lebanon, | 65 |
| choice as its cedars. | |
| |
| His mouth is sweetness itself; | |
| he is altogether lovely. | |
| This is my lover, this my friend, | |
| O daughters of Jerusalem. | 70 |