My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: Behold, he standeth behind our wall; He looketh in at the windows; He glanceth through the lattice.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake (my) love, Until he please.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, That ye stir not up, nor awake (my) love, Until he please.