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.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep whose wool is newly cut, which come up from the washing; every one has two lambs, and there is not one without young.

A garden walled-in is my sister, my bride; a garden shut up, a spring of water stopped.

I got up to let my loved one in; and my hands were dropping with myrrh, and my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the lock of the door.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep which come up from the washing; every one has two lambs, and there is not one without young.

I said, Let me go up the palm-tree, and let me take its branches in my hands: your breasts will be as the fruit of the vine, and the smell of your breath like apples;

Who is this, who comes up from the waste places, resting on her loved one? It was I who made you awake under the apple-tree, where your mother gave you birth; there she was in pain at your birth.

If she is a wall, we will make on her a strong base of silver; and if she is a door, we will let her be shut up with cedar-wood.