I am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! 'Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled [with] dew, My locks [with] drops of the night.'

Those eating of dainties have been desolate in out-places, Those supported on scarlet have embraced dunghills.

of whom the world was not worthy; in deserts wandering, and [in] mountains, and [in] caves, and [in] the holes of the earth;