Song of Solomon 8

8I wish that you were my brother,

that my mother had nursed you at her breast.

Then, if I met you in the street,

I could kiss you and no one would mind.

²I would take you to my mother’s house,

where you could teach me love.

I would give you spiced wine,

my pomegranate wine to drink.

³Your left hand is under my head,

and your right hand caresses me.

⁴Promise me, women of Jerusalem,

that you will not interrupt our love.

The Sixth Song

⁵Who is this coming from the desert,

arm in arm with her lover?

The Woman

Under the apple tree I woke you,

in the place where you were born.

⁶Close your heart to every love but mine;

hold no one in your arms but me.

Love is as powerful as death;

passion is as strong as death itself.

It bursts into flame

and burns like a raging fire.

⁷Water cannot put it out;

no flood can drown it.

But if anyone tried to buy love with wealth,

contempt is all they would get.

⁸We have a young sister,

and her breasts are still small.

What will we do for her

when a young man comes courting?

⁹If she is a wall,

we will build her a silver tower.

But if she is a gate,

we will protect her with panels of cedar.

¹⁰I am a wall,

and my breasts are its towers.

My lover knows that with him

I find contentment and peace.

¹¹Solomon has a vineyard

in a place called Baal Hamon.

There are farmers who rent it from him;

each one pays a thousand silver coins.

¹²Solomon is welcome to his thousand coins,

and the farmers to two hundred as their share;

I have a vineyard of my own!

¹³Let me hear your voice from the garden, my love;

my companions are waiting to hear you speak.

The Woman

¹⁴Come to me, my lover,

like a gazelle, like a young stag on the mountains where spices grow.