the fig tree puts forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, My love, My beautiful one, and come away.

O My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let Me see your face, let Me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is beautiful.

But a little while after I passed from them, I found Him whom my soul loves. I held Him and would not let Him go, until I had brought Him into my mother's house, and into the room of her who conceived me.

Behold, you are beautiful, My love. Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are like doves' from behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead.

Turn away your eyes from Me, for they have overcome Me; your hair is like a flock of goats that appears from Gilead.

But My dove, My undefiled is one alone. She is the only one of her mother. She is the choice of her who bore her. The daughters saw her and blessed her; the queens and the concubines saw her, and they praised her.

Your head on you is like Carmel, and the hair of your head like purple cloth; the King is held captive in its tresses.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her Beloved? I awakened you under the apple tree; there your mother travailed with you; there she travailed and bore you.

If she is a wall, we will build on her a palace of silver; and if she is a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar.

You who dwell in the gardens, the companions listen to your voice; cause me to hear.