I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen that go about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love.
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