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A missed encounter

[Woman]

I was sleeping, but my heart was awake.
A sound! My love is knocking:

[Man]

“Open for me, my sister, my dearest,
        my dove, my perfect one!
        My head is soaked with dew,
        my hair, with the night mists.”

[Woman]

“I have taken off my tunic—
        why should I put it on again?
I have bathed my feet—
        why should I get them dirty?”
My love put his hand in through the latch hole,
        and my body ached for him.
I rose; I went to open for my love,
        and my hands dripped myrrh,
        my fingers, liquid myrrh,
        over the handles of the lock.
I went and opened for my love,
    but my love had turned, gone away.
I nearly died when he turned away.
I looked for him but couldn’t find him.
        I called out to him, but he didn’t answer me.
They found me—the guards
        who make their rounds in the city.
They struck me, bruised me.
They took my shawl away from me,
        those guards of the city walls!

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