Behold, you are beautiful, My love. Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are as doves’ from behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats which recline from Mount Gilead.
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.
Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, and lean on horses, and trust on chariotry, because it is great; and in horsemen because they are very strong! But they do not look to the Holy One of Israel, and do not seek Jehovah.