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Maiden’s Dream: Seeking and Not Finding

I was asleep but[a] my heart was awake.
    A sound! My beloved knocking![b]
“Open to me, my sister, my beloved,
    my dove, my perfect one!
For my head is full of dew,
    my hair drenched from the moist night air.”[c]
I have taken off my tunic, must I put it on?[d]
    I have bathed my feet, must I soil them?[e]
My beloved thrust his hand into the opening,
    and my inmost yearned for him.
I myself arose to open to my beloved;
    my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with liquid myrrh
    upon the handles of the bolt.
I opened myself to my beloved,
    but my beloved had turned and gone;[f]
my heart sank[g] when he turned away.[h]
I sought him, but I did not find him;
    I called him, but he did not answer me.
The sentinels making rounds in the city found me;
    they beat me, they wounded me;
they took my cloak[i] away from me—
    those sentinels on the walls![j]

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Footnotes

  1. Song of Solomon 5:2 Or “and”
  2. Song of Solomon 5:2 Or “The sound of my beloved knocking!”
  3. Song of Solomon 5:2 Literally “my locks with drops of night”
  4. Song of Solomon 5:3 Literally “How will I put it on?”
  5. Song of Solomon 5:3 Literally “How will I soil them?”
  6. Song of Solomon 5:6 Or “my beloved had left; he was gone”
  7. Song of Solomon 5:6 Or “my soul left”
  8. Song of Solomon 5:6 Or “when he was speaking.” Translations equivocate on how to translate this verb, since there are two terms in Hebrew spelled identically: “to speak” and “to turn aside” (HALOT 1:210). The context suggests the latter
  9. Song of Solomon 5:7 Or “mantle”
  10. Song of Solomon 5:7 Literally “the sentinels of the walls”

Beloved

I was asleep, but my heart was awake.
    It is the voice of my beloved who knocks:
    “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled;
    for my head is filled with dew,
    and my hair with the dampness of the night.”
I have taken off my robe. Indeed, must I put it on?
    I have washed my feet. Indeed, must I soil them?
My beloved thrust his hand in through the latch opening.
    My heart pounded for him.
I rose up to open for my beloved.
    My hands dripped with myrrh,
    my fingers with liquid myrrh,
    on the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved;
    but my beloved left, and had gone away.
My heart went out when he spoke.
    I looked for him, but I didn’t find him.
    I called him, but he didn’t answer.
The watchmen who go about the city found me.
    They beat me.
    They bruised me.
    The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.

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