They are wet with the showers of hills, and embrace the rock for lack of shelter.
They lodge naked ones without clothing, and there is no cover against the cold.
They seize the orphan from the breast, and lay a pledge on afflicted ones.
I sleep, but my heart is waking. It is the sound of my Beloved that knocks, saying, Open to Me, My sister, My love, My dove, My undefiled. For My head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.
Those who ate delicacies are desolate in the outside places; those reared on scarlet embrace dunghills.
of whom the world was not worthy, wandering in deserts, and mountains, and caves, and the holes of the earth.