The Bride Searches for Her Beloved

She

I slept, but my heart was awake.
A sound! My beloved is (A)knocking.
“Open to me, my (B)sister, my (C)love,
    my (D)dove, my (E)perfect one,
for my head is wet with dew,
    my (F)locks with the drops of the night.”
(G)I had put off my garment;
    how could I put it on?
I had (H)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,
my fingers with (I)liquid myrrh,
    on the handles of the bolt.
I opened to my beloved,
    but my beloved had turned and gone.
My soul failed me when he (J)spoke.
(K)I sought him, but found him not;
    (L)I called him, but he gave no answer.
(M)The watchmen found me
    as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they bruised me,
    they took away my veil,
    those watchmen of the walls.

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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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