⁸ They are wet with the rain of the mountains, and get into the cracks of the rock for cover.

⁵ Those who were used to feasting on delicate food are wasted in the streets: those who as children were dressed in purple are stretched out on the dust.

² I am sleeping, but my heart is awake; it is the sound of my loved one at the door, saying, Be open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my very beautiful one; my head is wet with dew, and my hair with the drops of the night.

³⁸ Wandering in waste places and in mountains and in holes in the rocks; for whom the world was not good enough.