Song of Songs 2:13
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.
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.
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7 I say to you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes of the field, do not let love be moved till it is ready.
8 The voice of my loved one! See, he comes dancing on the mountains, stepping quickly on the hills.
9 My loved one is like a roe; see, he is on the other side of our wall, he is looking in at the windows, letting himself be seen through the spaces.
10 My loved one said to me, Get up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
11 For, see, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
12 The flowers are come on the earth; the time of cutting the vines is come, and the voice of the dove is sounding in our land;
6 How beautiful and how sweet you are, O love, for delight.
7 You are tall like a palm-tree, and your breasts are like the fruit of the vine.
8 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;
9 And the roof of your mouth like good wine flowing down smoothly for my loved one, moving gently over my lips and my teeth.
10 I am for my loved one, and his desire is for me.
11 Come, my loved one, let us go out into the field; let us take rest among the cypress-trees.
12 Let us go out early to the vine-gardens; let us see if the vine is in bud, if it has put out its young fruit, and the pomegranate is in flower. There I will give you my love.
13 The mandrakes give out a sweet smell, and at our doors are all sorts of good fruits, new and old, which I have kept for my loved one.
15 You are a fountain of gardens, a spring of living waters, and flowing waters from Lebanon.
16 Be awake, O north wind; and come, O south, blowing on my garden, so that its spices may come out. Let my loved one come into his garden, and take of his good fruits.
14 O my dove, you are in the holes of the mountain sides, in the cracks of the high hills; let me see your face, let your voice come to my ears; for sweet is your voice, and your face is fair.
15 Take for us the foxes, the little foxes, which do damage to the vines; our vines have young grapes.
16 My loved one is mine, and I am his: he takes his food among the flowers.
17 Till the evening comes, and the sky slowly becomes dark, come, my loved one, and be like a roe on the mountains of Bether.
13 As a bag of myrrh is my well-loved one to me, when he is at rest all night between my breasts.
14 My love is to me as a branch of the cypress-tree in the vine-gardens of En-gedi.
15 See, you are fair, my love, you are fair; you have the eyes of a dove.
16 See, you are fair, my loved one, and a pleasure; our bed is green.
3 As the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, so is my loved one among the sons. I took my rest under his shade with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
4 He took me to the house of wine, and his flag over me was love.
5 Make me strong with wine-cakes, let me be comforted with apples; I am overcome with love.
13 You who have your resting-place in the gardens, the friends give ear to your voice; make me give ear to it.
14 Come quickly, my loved one, and be like a roe on the mountains of spice.
1 Where is your loved one gone, O most fair among women? Where is your loved one turned away, that we may go looking for him with you?
2 My loved one is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to take food in the gardens, and to get lilies.
6 Till the evening comes, and the sky slowly becomes dark, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
4 I say to you, O daughters of Jerusalem, do not let love be moved till it is ready.
5 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.
1 I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; to take my myrrh with my spice; my wax with my honey; my wine with my milk. Take meat, O friends; take wine, yes, be overcome with love.
2 I am sleeping, but my heart is awake; it is the sound of my loved one at the door, saying, Be open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my very beautiful one; my head is wet with dew, and my hair with the drops of the night.
12 A garden walled-in is my sister, my bride; a garden shut up, a spring of water stopped.
13 The produce of the garden is pomegranates; with all the best fruits, henna and spikenard,
5 I say to you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes of the field, let not love be moved till it is ready.
6 Who is this coming out of the waste places like pillars of smoke, perfumed with sweet spices, with all the spices of the trader?
1 Let me make a song about my loved one, a song of love for his vine-garden. My loved one had a vine-garden on a fertile hill:
8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, with me from Lebanon; see from the top of Amana, from the top of Senir and Hermon, from the places of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards.
2 Let him give me the kisses of his mouth: for his love is better than wine.
10 How fair is your love, my sister! How much better is your love than wine, and the smell of your oils than any perfume!
4 Take me to you, and we will go after you: the king has taken me into his house. We will be glad and full of joy in you, we will give more thought to your love than to wine: rightly are they your lovers.
7 Say, O love of my soul, where you give food to your flock, and where you make them take their rest in the heat of the day; why have I to be as one wandering by the flocks of your friends?
11 I went down into the garden of nuts to see the green plants of the valley, and to see if the vine was in bud, and the pomegranate-trees were in flower.
22 Have no fear, you beasts of the field, for the grass-lands of the waste are becoming green, for the trees are producing fruit, the fig-tree and the vine give out their strength.
11 But the fig-tree said to them, Am I to give up my sweet taste and my good fruit and go waving over the trees?
5 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.