8 The voice of my beloved! Now he comes, Leaping upon the mountains, Skipping upon the hills.
9 My beloved is like a gazelle or a young hart. Now he stands behind our wall; He is looking through the windows, He is glancing through the lattice.
10 My beloved responds and says to me, Rise up, my love, My beauty, and come away;
11 For now the winter is past; The rain is over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing has come, And the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree has ripened its figs, And the vines are in blossom - they give forth their fragrance. Rise up, my love, My beauty, and come away.
14 My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see your countenance, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, And your countenance is lovely.
15 Catch the foxes for us, The little foxes, That ruin the vineyards While our vineyards are in blossom.
16 My beloved is mine, and I am his; He pastures his flock among the lilies.
17 Until the day dawns and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young hart On the mountains of Bether.