Song of Solomon 2:8–17

The voice of my beloved!

Behold, he comes,

leaping over the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My beloved is like a gazelle

or a young stag.

Behold, there he stands

behind our wall,

gazing through the windows,

looking through the lattice.

My beloved speaks and says to me:

“Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

and come away,

for behold, the winter is past;

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the turtledove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree ripens its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my beautiful one,

and come away.

O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

in the crannies of the cliff,

let me see your face,

let me hear your voice,

for your voice is sweet,

and your face is lovely.

Catch the foxes for us,

the little foxes

that spoil the vineyards,

for our vineyards are in blossom.”

My beloved is mine, and I am his;

he grazes among the lilies.

Until the day breathes

and the shadows flee,

turn, my beloved, be like a gazelle

or a young stag on cleft mountains.

Listen! My beloved!

Look! Here he comes,

leaping across the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.

Look! There he stands behind our wall,

gazing through the windows,

peering through the lattice.

My beloved spoke and said to me,

“Arise, my darling,

my beautiful one, come with me.

See! The winter is past;

the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;

the season of singing has come,

the cooing of doves

is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit;

the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

Arise, come, my darling;

my beautiful one, come with me.”

My dove in the clefts of the rock,

in the hiding places on the mountainside,

show me your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet,

and your face is lovely.

Catch for us the foxes,

the little foxes

that ruin the vineyards,

our vineyards that are in bloom.

My beloved is mine and I am his;

he browses among the lilies.

Until the day breaks

and the shadows flee,

turn, my beloved,

and be like a gazelle

or like a young stag

on the rugged hills.

Listen! My love is approaching.

Look! Here he comes,

leaping over the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My love is like a gazelle

or a young stag.

See, he is standing behind our wall,

gazing through the windows,

peering through the lattice.

My love calls to me:

Arise, my darling.

Come away, my beautiful one.

For now the winter is past;

the rain has ended and gone away.

The blossoms appear in the countryside.

The time of singing has come,

and the turtledove’s cooing is heard in our land.

The fig tree ripens its figs;

the blossoming vines give off their fragrance.

Arise, my darling.

Come away, my beautiful one.

My dove, in the clefts of the rock,

in the crevices of the cliff,

let me see your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet,

and your face is lovely.

Catch the foxes for us—

the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—

for our vineyards are in bloom.

My love is mine and I am his;

he feeds among the lilies.

Until the day breaks

and the shadows flee,

turn around, my love, and be like a gazelle

or a young stag on the divided mountains.

Ah, I hear my lover coming!

He is leaping over the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My lover is like a swift gazelle

or a young stag.

Look, there he is behind the wall,

looking through the window,

peering into the room.

My lover said to me,

“Rise up, my darling!

Come away with me, my fair one!

Look, the winter is past,

and the rains are over and gone.

The flowers are springing up,

the season of singing birds has come,

and the cooing of turtledoves fills the air.

The fig trees are forming young fruit,

and the fragrant grapevines are blossoming.

Rise up, my darling!

Come away with me, my fair one!”

My dove is hiding behind the rocks,

behind an outcrop on the cliff.

Let me see your face;

let me hear your voice.

For your voice is pleasant,

and your face is lovely.

Catch all the foxes,

those little foxes,

before they ruin the vineyard of love,

for the grapevines are blossoming!

My lover is mine, and I am his.

He browses among the lilies.

Before the dawn breezes blow

and the night shadows flee,

return to me, my love, like a gazelle

or a young stag on the rugged mountains.

The voice of my beloved!

Look! Here he comes leaping upon the mountains,

bounding over the hills!

My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.

Look! He is standing behind our wall,

gazing through the window,

looking through the lattice.

My beloved answered and said to me,

“Arise, my beloved! Come, my beauty!

For look! The winter is over;

the rainy season has turned and gone away.

The blossoms appear in the land;

the time of singing has arrived;

the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth her figs,

and the vines are in blossom; they give fragrance.

Arise, my beloved! Come, my beauty!”

My dove, in the clefts of the rock,

in the secluded place in the mountain,

Let me see your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely.

Catch for us the foxes,

the little foxes destroying vineyards,

for our vineyards are in blossom!

My beloved belongs to me and I belong to him;

he pastures his flock among the lilies.

Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,

turn, my beloved!

Be like a gazelle or young stag on the cleft mountains.

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh

Leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart:

Behold, he standeth behind our wall,

He looketh forth at the windows,

Shewing himself through the lattice.

My beloved spake, 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 the singing of birds is come,

And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs,

And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs,

Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice;

For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Take us the foxes,

The little foxes, that spoil the vines:

For our vines have tender grapes.

My beloved is mine, and I am his:

He feedeth among the lilies.

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,

Turn, my beloved,

And be thou like a roe or a young hart

Upon the mountains of Bether.