Song of Songs 5:1-9

Song of Songs 5:1-9 The Message (MSG)

I went to my garden, dear friend, best lover! breathed the sweet fragrance. I ate the fruit and honey, I drank the nectar and wine. Celebrate with me, friends! Raise your glasses—“To life! To love!” I was sound asleep, but in my dreams I was wide awake. Oh, listen! It’s the sound of my lover knocking, calling! “Let me in, dear companion, dearest friend, my dove, consummate lover! I’m soaked with the dampness of the night, drenched with dew, shivering and cold.” “But I’m in my nightgown—do you expect me to get dressed? I’m bathed and in bed—do you want me to get dirty?” But my lover wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the longer he knocked, the more excited I became. I got up to open the door to my lover, sweetly ready to receive him, Desiring and expectant as I turned the door handle. But when I opened the door he was gone. My loved one had tired of waiting and left. And I died inside—oh, I felt so bad! I ran out looking for him But he was nowhere to be found. I called into the darkness—but no answer. The night watchmen found me as they patrolled the streets of the city. They slapped and beat and bruised me, ripping off my clothes, These watchmen, who were supposed to be guarding the city. I beg you, sisters in Jerusalem— if you find my lover, Please tell him I want him, that I’m heartsick with love for him. What’s so great about your lover, fair lady? What’s so special about him that you beg for our help?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 King James Version (KJV)

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: Eat, O friends; Drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. I sleep, but my heart waketh: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, My dove, my undefiled: For my head is filled with dew, And my locks with the drops of the night. I have put off my coat; How shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; How shall I defile them? My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, And my bowels were moved for him. I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, Upon the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: My soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen that went about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my veil from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick of love. What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved, That thou dost so charge us?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 New American Standard Bible - NASB 1995 (NASB1995)

“I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh along with my balsam. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and imbibe deeply, O lovers.” “I was asleep but my heart was awake. A voice! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with dew, My locks with the damp of the night.’ I have taken off my dress, How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet, How can I dirty them again? My beloved extended his hand through the opening, And my feelings were aroused for him. I arose to open to my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the bolt. I opened to my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and had gone! My heart went out to him as he spoke. I searched for him but I did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me. The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me, They struck me and wounded me; The guardsmen of the walls took away my shawl from me. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, As to what you will tell him: For I am lovesick.” “What kind of beloved is your beloved, O most beautiful among women? What kind of beloved is your beloved, That thus you adjure us?”

Song of Songs 5:1-9 New Century Version (NCV)

I have entered my garden, my sister, my bride. I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey. I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, friends, and drink; yes, drink deeply, lovers. I sleep, but my heart is awake. I hear my lover knocking. “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. My head is wet with dew, and my hair with the dampness of the night.” I have taken off my garment and don’t want to put it on again. I have washed my feet and don’t want to get them dirty again. My lover put his hand through the opening, and I felt excited inside. I got up to open the door for my lover. Myrrh was dripping from my hands and flowing from my fingers, onto the handles of the lock. I opened the door for my lover, but my lover had left and was gone. When he spoke, he took my breath away. I looked for him, but I could not find him; I called for him, but he did not answer. The watchmen found me as they patrolled the city. They hit me and hurt me; the guards on the wall took away my veil. Promise me, women of Jerusalem, if you find my lover, tell him I am weak with love. How is your lover better than other lovers, most beautiful of women? How is your lover better than other lovers? Why do you want us to promise this?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 American Standard Version (ASV)

I am come into my garden, my sister, my bride: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends; Drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. I was asleep, but my heart waked: It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, 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. I have put off my garment; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them? My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, And my heart was moved for him. I rose up to open to my beloved; And my hands dropped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, Upon the handles of the bolt. I opened to my beloved; But my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. My soul had failed me when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen that go about the city found me, They smote me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls took away my mantle from me. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, That ye tell him, that I am sick from love. What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy beloved more than another beloved, That thou dost so adjure us?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 New International Version (NIV)

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, friends, and drink; drink your fill of love. I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again? I have washed my feet— must I soil them again? My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him. I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt. I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls! Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you— if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him I am faint with love. How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? How is your beloved better than others, that you so charge us?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 New King James Version (NKJV)

I have come to my garden, my sister, my spouse; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends! Drink, yes, drink deeply, O beloved ones! I sleep, but my heart is awake; It is the voice of my beloved! He knocks, saying, “Open for me, my sister, my love, My dove, my perfect one; For my head is covered with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.” I have taken off my robe; How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet; How can I defile them? My beloved put his hand By the latch of the door, And my heart yearned for him. I arose to open for my beloved, And my hands dripped with myrrh, My fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the lock. I opened for my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and was gone. My heart leaped up when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen who went about the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; The keepers of the walls Took my veil away from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, That you tell him I am lovesick! What is your beloved More than another beloved, O fairest among women? What is your beloved More than another beloved, That you so charge us?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 Amplified Bible (AMP)

“I have come into my garden, my sister, my [promised] bride; I have gathered my myrrh along with my balsam and spice [from your sweet words]. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and drink deeply, O lovers.” “I was asleep, but my heart was awake. A voice [in my dream]! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is drenched with the [heavy night] dew; My hair [is covered] with the dampness of the night.’ I had taken off my dress, How can I put it on again? I had washed my feet, How could I get them dirty again? My beloved extended his hand through the opening [of the door], And my feelings were aroused for him. I arose to open for my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid [sweet-scented] myrrh, On the handles of the bolt. I opened for my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and was gone. My heart went out to him when he spoke. I searched for him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. The watchmen who make the rounds in the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; The guardsmen of the walls took my shawl from me. I command that you take an oath, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, As to what you tell him— [Say that] I am sick from love [sick from being without him].” “What is your beloved more than another beloved, O most beautiful among women? What is your beloved more than another beloved, That you should so command us to take an oath?”

Song of Songs 5:1-9 New Living Translation (NLT)

I have entered my garden, my treasure, my bride! I gather myrrh with my spices and eat honeycomb with my honey. I drink wine with my milk. Oh, lover and beloved, eat and drink! Yes, drink deeply of your love! I slept, but my heart was awake, when I heard my lover knocking and calling: “Open to me, my treasure, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” But I responded, “I have taken off my robe. Should I get dressed again? I have washed my feet. Should I get them soiled?” My lover tried to unlatch the door, and my heart thrilled within me. I jumped up to open the door for my love, and my hands dripped with perfume. My fingers dripped with lovely myrrh as I pulled back the bolt. I opened to my lover, but he was gone! My heart sank. I searched for him but could not find him anywhere. I called to him, but there was no reply. The night watchmen found me as they made their rounds. They beat and bruised me and stripped off my veil, those watchmen on the walls. Make this promise, O women of Jerusalem— If you find my lover, tell him I am weak with love. Why is your lover better than all others, O woman of rare beauty? What makes your lover so special that we must promise this?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 The Passion Translation (TPT)

I have gathered from your heart, my equal, my bride, I have gathered from my garden all my sacred spices—even my myrrh. I have tasted and enjoyed my wine within you. I have tasted with pleasure my pure milk, my honeycomb, which you yield to me. I delight in gathering my sacred spice, all the fruits of my life I have gathered from within you, my paradise garden. Come, all my friends— feast upon my bride, all you revelers of my palace. Feast on her, my lovers! Drink and drink, and drink again, until you can take no more. Drink the wine of her love. Take all you desire, you priests. My life within her will become your feast. After this I let my devotion slumber, but my heart for him stayed awake. I had a dream. I dreamed of my beloved— he was coming to me in the darkness of night. The melody of the man I love awakened me. I heard his knock at my heart’s door as he pleaded with me: Arise, my love. Open your heart, my darling, deeper still to me. Will you receive me this dark night? There is no one else but you, my friend, my equal. I need you this night to arise and come be with me. You are my pure, loyal dove, a perfect partner for me. My flawless one, will you arise? For my heaviness and tears are more than I can bear. I have spent myself for you throughout the dark night. I have already laid aside my own garments for you. How could I take them up again since I’ve yielded my righteousness to yours? You have cleansed my life and taken me so far. Isn’t that enough? My beloved reached into me to unlock my heart. The core of my very being trembled at his touch. How my soul melted when he spoke to me! My spirit arose to open for more of his touch. As I surrendered to him, I began to sense his fragrance— the fragrance of his suffering love! It was the sense of myrrh flowing all through me! I opened my soul to my beloved, but suddenly he was gone! And my heart was torn out in longing for him. I sought his presence, his fragrance, but could not find him anywhere. I called out for him, yet he did not answer me. I will arise and search for him until I find him. As I walked throughout the city in search of him, the overseers stopped me as they made their rounds. They beat me and bruised me until I could take no more. They wounded me deeply and removed my covering from me. Nevertheless, make me this promise, you brides-to-be: if you find my beloved one, please tell him I endured all travails for him. I’ve been pierced through by love, and I will not be turned aside! What love is this? How could you continue to care so deeply for him? Isn’t there another who could steal away your heart? We see now your beauty, more beautiful than all the others. What makes your beloved better than any other? What is it about him that makes you ask us to promise you this?

Song of Songs 5:1-9 English Standard Version 2016 (ESV)

I came to my garden, my sister, my bride, I gathered my myrrh with my spice, I ate my honeycomb with my honey, I drank my wine with my milk. Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love! I slept, but my heart was awake. A sound! My beloved is knocking. “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is wet with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.” I had put off my garment; how could I put it on? I had bathed my feet; how could I soil them? My beloved put his hand to the latch, and my heart was thrilled within me. I arose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the bolt. I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had turned and gone. My soul failed me when he spoke. I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. The watchmen found me as they went about in the city; they beat me, they bruised me, they took away my veil, those watchmen of the walls. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him I am sick with love. What is your beloved more than another beloved, O most beautiful among women? What is your beloved more than another beloved, that you thus adjure us?