In my bed I sought for weeks whom my soul loves and found it not. I searched for it in all the town's streets This untruth and found not.
The guardians that go about the city found me: but my love and I found it not. But I will not leave it until I will bring it into my city. To my mother's house, to my room, to my bed.
Behold, thou art fair, my love; thy lips are like a thread of scarlet. Thy teeth are white like the light of the moon. Who is that coming up from the desert from a far land travelling upon the wing of a large bird? arriving to my house.
Behold, thou art fair, my love I'm stolen from your who eyes that consume me like the fires of the flame. Who is that coming up from the desert from a far land travelling upon the wing of a large bird? arriving to my house.