I adjure you, daughters of Yerushalayim, by the roes, or by the hinds of the field, that you not stir up, nor awaken love, until it so desires.
I am dark, but lovely, you daughters of Yerushalayim, like Kedar's tents, like Shlomo's curtains.
His left hand is under my head. His right hand embraces me.
My beloved is like a roe or a young hart. Behold, he stands behind our wall! He looks in at the windows. He glances through the lattice.
I adjure you, daughters of Yerushalayim, If you find my beloved, that you tell him that I am faint with love. Friends
I adjure you, daughters of Yerushalayim, that you not stir up, nor awaken love, until it so desires. Friends
You, tower of the flock, the hill of the daughter of Tziyon, to you it will come, yes, the former dominion will come, the kingdom of the daughter of Yerushalayim.