the {song of songs} five:two-eight

I sleep, but my heart is
awake;
It is the voice of my beloved!
He knocks, saying,
"Open for me, my sister, my
love,
My dove, my perfect one;
For my head is covered with dew,
My locks with the drops of the
night."

I have taken off my robe;
How can I put it on again?
I have washed my feet;
How can I defile them?
My beloved put his hand
By the latch of the door,
And my heart yearned for
him.
I arose to open for my beloved,
And my hands dripped with
myrrh,
My fingers with liquid myrrh,
On the handles of the lock.

I opened for my beloved,
But my beloved had turned
away and was gone.
My heart leaped up when he
spoke.
I sought him, but I could not
find him;
I called him, but he gave me no
answer.

The watchmen who went about
the city found me.
They struck me, they wounded
me;
The keepers of the wall
Took my veil away from me.

I charge you, O daughters of
Jerusalem,
If you find my beloved,
That you tell him I am lovesick!