There is the voice of my beloved. Behold, he comes, leaping over the mountains and hills. He is like a gazelle, or a young deer. Behold, he is looking in through the windows and the lattice. He speaks to me: “Rise up, my beautiful one, and come away. For the winter is past, and the rain is gone. The flowers appear on the earth, and the voice of the turtledoves is heard in our land. The fig tree ripens its figs. The vines give out fragrance. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes.
Turn here, my beloved, until the day becomes cool.