I have entered my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey. I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, friends, and drink; yes, drink deeply, lovers. I sleep, but my heart is awake. I hear my lover knocking. “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. My head is wet with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.” I have taken off my garment and don’t want to put it on again. I have washed my feet and don’t want to get them dirty again. My lover put his hand through the opening, and I felt excited inside. I got up to open the door for my lover. Myrrh was dripping from my hands and flowing from my fingers, onto the handles of the lock.
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