My loved one said to me, Get up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

The fig-tree puts out her green fruit and the vines with their young fruit give a good smell. Get up from your bed, my beautiful one, and come away.

I will get up now and go about the town, in the streets and in the wide ways I will go after him who is the love of my soul: I went after him, but I did not see him.

My loved one is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to take food in the gardens, and to get lilies.