שיר השירים חSong of Songs 8

If only it could be as with a brother,As if you had nursed at my mother’s breast:Then I could kiss youWhen I met you in the street,And no one would despise me.

I would lead you, I would bring youTo the house of my mother,Of her who taught me—I would let you drink of the spiced wine,Of my pomegranate juice.

His left hand was under my head,His right hand caressed me.

I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem:Do not wake or rouseLove until it please!

Who is she that comes up from the desert,Leaning upon her beloved?Under the apple tree I roused you;It was there your mother conceived you,There she who bore you conceived you.

Let me be a seal upon your heart,Like the seal upon your hand. For love is fierce as death,Passion is mighty as Sheol;Its darts are darts of fire,A blazing flame.

Vast floods cannot quench love,Nor rivers drown it.If someone offered all his household’s wealth for love,He would be laughed to scorn.

“We have a little sister,Whose breasts are not yet formed.What shall we do for our sisterWhen she is spoken for?

If she be a wall,We will build upon it a silver battlement;If she be a door,We will panel it in cedar.”

I am a wall,My breasts are like towers.So I became in his eyesAs one who finds favor.

Solomon had a vineyardIn Baal-hamon.He had to post guards in the vineyard:Anyone would give for its fruitA thousand pieces of silver.

I have my very own vineyard:You may have the thousand, O Solomon,And the guards of the fruit two hundred!

O you who linger in the garden, A lover is listening;Let me hear your voice.

“Hurry, my beloved,Swift as a gazelle or a young stag,To the hills of spices!”