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The guards making rounds in the city found me.
They beat me, bruised me.
The guards on the walls took my veil from me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you,
    if you should find my lover,
what will you tell him?
    That I am sick from love!

How is your lover different from other lovers,
    O most beautiful among women?
How is your lover different from other lovers
    that you charge us so?

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