Song of Solomon 2:8–17

⁸The voice of my beloved! lo, this—he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills. ⁹My beloved is like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this—he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice. ¹⁰My beloved hath answered and said to me, ‘Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away, ¹¹For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away—it hath gone. ¹²The flowers have appeared in the earth, The time of the singing hath come, And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land, ¹³The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.

¹⁴My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice is sweet, and thy appearance comely. ¹⁵Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes—destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweet-smelling vineyards. ¹⁶My beloved is mine, and I am his, Who is delighting among the lilies, ¹⁷Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!

Chapter 3