8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he comes leaping over the mountains, skipping over the hills. 9 My beloved is like a roe or a young hart; behold, he stands behind our wall; he looks through the windows, blossoming through the lattice. 10 My beloved spoke and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. 11 For, behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone; 12 the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the song is come, and the voice of the turtle dove has been heard in our land; 13 the fig tree has put forth her green figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. 14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is beautiful. 15 Hunt the foxes for us, the little foxes, that spoil the vines; for our vines are in blossom.
16 My beloved is mine, and I am his; he feeds among the lilies. 17 Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away, return, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.