Canticum canticorum

I had put off my garment,
how could I put it on?
I had bathed my feet,
how could I soil them?
My beloved put his hand to the latch,
and my heart was thrilled within me.
I arose to open to my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
upon the handles of the bolt.
I opened to my beloved,
but my beloved had turned and gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
The watchmen found me,
as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they wounded me,
they took away my mantle
those watchmen of the walls.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved,
that you will tell him I am sick with love.

What is your beloved more than another beloved,
O fairest among women?
What is your beloved more than another beloved,
that you thus adjure us?

My beloved is all radiant and ruddy.
distinguished among ten thousand.
His head is the finest gold;
his locks are wavy, black as a raven.
His eyes are like the doves
beside springs of water,
bathed in milk, fitly set.
His cheeks are like beds of spices,
yielding fragrance.
His lips are lilies
distilling liquid myrrh.
His arms are rounded gold,
set with jewels.
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