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 have come to 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, O friends, and drink; drink freely, 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 sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My beloved 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.”

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

I have taken off my robe— must I put it back on? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.

My beloved put his hand to the latch; my heart pounded 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 rose up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

I opened for my beloved, but he had turned and gone. My heart sank at his departure. I sought him, but did not find him. I called, but he did not 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 encountered the watchmen on their rounds of the city. They beat me and bruised me; they took away my cloak, those guardians of the walls.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

O daughters of Jerusalem, I adjure you, if you find my beloved, tell him I am sick with love.

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?

How is your beloved better than others, O most beautiful among women? How is your beloved better than another, that you charge us so?

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

My beloved is dazzling and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.

His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.

His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy 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 eyes are like doves beside the streams of water, bathed in milk and mounted like jewels.

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

His cheeks are like beds of spice, towers of perfume. His lips are like lilies, dripping with flowing myrrh.

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.

His arms are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is an ivory panel bedecked 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 legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, as majestic 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.

His mouth is most sweet; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.