8 We have a little sister, and breasts she hath not, What do we do for our sister, In the day that it is told of her? 9 If she is a wall, we build by her a palace of silver. And if she is a door, We fashion by her board-work of cedar.
10 I [am] a wall, and my breasts as towers, Then I have been in his eyes as one finding peace.
11 Solomon hath a vineyard in Baal-Hamon, He hath given the vineyard to keepers, Each bringeth for its fruit a thousand silverlings; 12 My vineyard -- my own -- is before me, The thousand [is] for thee, O Solomon. And the two hundred for those keeping its fruit. O dweller in gardens!
13 The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,
14 Or to a young one of the harts on mountains of spices!