Song Of Songs 5

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.

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 slept but my heart was awake.
    Listen! 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 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 soil them again?

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

My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening;
    my heart began to pound for him.

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

I arose to open for my beloved,
    and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh,
    on the handles of the bolt.

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 for my beloved,
    but my beloved had left; he was gone.
    My heart sank at his departure.^[a]
I looked for him but did not find him.
    I called him but he did not answer.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.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

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 beloved,
what will you tell him?
    Tell him I am faint with love.

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

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

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 radiant and ruddy,
    outstanding among ten thousand.

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

His head is purest gold;
    his hair is 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 the water streams,
washed in milk,
    mounted like jewels.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

His cheeks are like beds of spice
    yielding perfume.
His lips are like lilies
    dripping with myrrh.

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

His arms are rods of gold
    set with topaz.
His body is like polished ivory
    decorated with lapis lazuli.

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

His legs are pillars of marble
    set on bases of pure gold.
His appearance is like Lebanon,
    choice as its 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 beloved, this is my friend,
    daughters of Jerusalem.