My beloved spoke, and said unto me:
‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing is come, and the
voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig-tree puts forth her green figs, and the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, hidden by the cliff, let me see your
countenance, let me hear your voice;
for sweet is your voice, and
your countenance is comely.’
‘Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyards;
for our vineyards are in blossom.’
My beloved is mine, and I am his, that feeds among the lilies.
Until the day breathe, and the shadows flee away,
turn, my beloved, and be you like a gazelle or a young hart upon
the mountains of spices.
