Add parallel Print Page Options

The Man

I come to my garden, my sister, my bride;
    I gather my myrrh with my spice;
I eat my honeycomb with my honey;
    I drink my wine with my milk.

Friends of the Man

Eat, friends!
    Drink, and be drunk with love!

The Woman

I slept, but my heart was awake.
A sound! My beloved is knocking. “Open to me, my sister, and my love,
    my dove, my perfect one;
for my head is wet with dew,
    my locks with the drops of the night.”
I had taken off my garment;
    how could I put it on again?
I had bathed my feet;
    how could I soil them?

Read full chapter