Song of Songs 5:2-8 - Муқоисаи ҳамаи нусхаҳо

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I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again? My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him. I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt. I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls! Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you— if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him I am faint with love.

I slept, but my heart was awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking. “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is wet with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.” I had put off my garment; how could I put it on? I had 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 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 spoke. I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. 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. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him I am sick with love.

I slept, but my heart was awake, when I heard my lover knocking and calling: “Open to me, my treasure, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” But I responded, “I have taken off my robe. Should I get dressed again? I have washed my feet. Should I get them soiled?” My lover tried to unlatch the door, and my heart thrilled within me. I jumped up to open the door for my love, and my hands dripped with perfume. My fingers dripped with lovely myrrh as I pulled back the bolt. I opened to my lover, but he was gone! My heart sank. I searched for him but could not find him anywhere. I called to him, but there was no reply. The night watchmen found me as they made their rounds. They beat and bruised me and stripped off my veil, those watchmen on the walls. Make this promise, O women of Jerusalem— If you find my lover, tell him I am weak with love.

I was sleeping, but my heart was awake. A sound! My love was knocking!  Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. For my head is drenched with dew, my hair with droplets of the night. I have taken off my clothing.  How can I put it back on? I have washed my feet. How can I get them dirty? My love thrust his hand through the opening, and my feelings were stirred for him. I rose to open for my love. My hands dripped with myrrh,  my fingers with flowing myrrh on the handles of the bolt. I opened to my love, but my love had turned and gone away. My heart sank  because he had left.  I sought him, but did not find him.  I called him, but he did not answer. The guards who go about the city found me.  They beat and wounded me; they took my cloak  from me — the guardians of the walls.  Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you,  if you find my love, tell him that I am lovesick.

I sleep, but my heart waketh: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, My dove, my undefiled: For my head is filled with dew, And my locks with the drops of the night. I have put off my coat; How shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; How shall I defile them? My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, And my bowels were moved for him. I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, Upon the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: My soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen that went about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

I sleep, but my heart is awake; It is the voice of my beloved! He knocks, saying, “Open for me, my sister, my love, My dove, my perfect one; For my head is covered with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.” I have taken off my robe; How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet; How can I defile them? My beloved put his hand By the latch of the door, And my heart yearned for him. I arose to open for my beloved, And my hands dripped with myrrh, My fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the lock. I opened for my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and was gone. My heart leaped up when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen who went about the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls Took my veil away from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, That you tell him I am lovesick!

I was sound asleep, but in my dreams I was wide awake. Oh, listen! It’s the sound of my lover knocking, calling! “Let me in, dear companion, dearest friend, my dove, consummate lover! I’m soaked with the dampness of the night, drenched with dew, shivering and cold.” “But I’m in my nightgown—do you expect me to get dressed? I’m bathed and in bed—do you want me to get dirty?” But my lover wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the longer he knocked, the more excited I became. I got up to open the door to my lover, sweetly ready to receive him, Desiring and expectant as I turned the door handle. But when I opened the door he was gone. My loved one had tired of waiting and left. And I died inside—oh, I felt so bad! I ran out looking for him But he was nowhere to be found. I called into the darkness—but no answer. The night watchmen found me as they patrolled the streets of the city. They slapped and beat and bruised me, ripping off my clothes, These watchmen, who were supposed to be guarding the city. I beg you, sisters in Jerusalem— if you find my lover, Please tell him I want him, that I’m heartsick with love for him.

¶“I was asleep but my heart was awake. A voice! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with dew, My locks with the dew drops of the night.’ “I have taken off my dress, How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet, How can I dirty them again? “My beloved extended his hand through the opening, And my feelings were stirred for him. “I arose to open to my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with drops of myrrh, On the handles of the bolt. “I opened to my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and had gone! My heart went out to him as he spoke. I searched for him but I did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me. “The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me, They struck me and wounded me; The guards of the walls took my shawl away from me. “Swear to me, you daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, As to what you will tell him: For I am lovesick.”

¶“I was asleep, but my heart was awake. A voice [in my dream]! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with the [heavy night] dew; My hair [is covered] with the dampness of the night.’ [Job 11:13-15] “I had taken off my dress, How can I put it on again? I had washed my feet, How could I get them dirty again? [Is 32:9; Heb 3:15] “My beloved extended his hand through the opening [of the door], And my feelings were aroused for him. “I arose to open for my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid [sweet-scented] myrrh, On the handles of the bolt. “I opened for my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and was gone. My heart went out to him when he spoke. I searched for him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. “The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; The guardsmen of the walls took my shawl from me. “I command that you take an oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, As to what you tell him— [Say that] I am sick from love [sick from being without him].” [Ps 63:1]

I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming. Listen! My lover is knocking at the door! “Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one! My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” “I have already taken off my robe – must I put it on again? I have already washed my feet – must I soil them again?” My lover thrust his hand through the hole, and my feelings were stirred for him. I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh – my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock. I opened for my beloved, but my lover had already turned and gone away. I fell into despair when he departed. I looked for him but did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen on the walls! O maidens of Jerusalem, I command you – If you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!