Song of Songs 2:13
The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.
The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.
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7 I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
8 The voice of my beloved! lo, this -- he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
9 My beloved `is' like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this -- he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice.
10 My beloved hath answered and said to me, `Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away,
11 For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away -- it hath gone.
12 The flowers have appeared in the earth, The time of the singing hath come, And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land,
6 How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
7 This thy stature hath been like to a palm, And thy breasts to clusters.
8 I said, `Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,
9 And thy palate as the good wine --' Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
10 I `am' my beloved's, and on me `is' his desire.
11 Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
12 We lodge in the villages, we go early to the vineyards, We see if the vine hath flourished, The sweet smelling-flower hath opened. The pomegranates have blossomed, There do I give to thee my loves;
13 The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, yea, old, my beloved, I laid up for thee!
15 A fount of gardens, a well of living waters, And flowings from Lebanon!
16 Awake, O north wind, and come, O south, Cause my garden to breathe forth, its spices let flow, Let my beloved come to his garden, And eat its pleasant fruits!
14 My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice `is' sweet, and thy appearance comely.
15 Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes -- destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweet-smelling vineyards.
16 My beloved `is' mine, and I `am' his, Who is delighting among the lilies,
17 Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!
13 A bundle of myrrh `is' my beloved to me, Between my breasts it lodgeth.
14 A cluster of cypress `is' my beloved to me, In the vineyards of En-Gedi!
15 Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, Lo, thou `art' fair, thine eyes `are' doves!
16 Lo, thou `art' fair, my love, yea, pleasant, Yea, our couch `is' green,
3 As a citron among trees of the forest, So `is' my beloved among the sons, In his shade I delighted, and sat down, And his fruit `is' sweet to my palate.
4 He hath brought me in unto a house of wine, And his banner over me `is' love,
5 Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I `am' sick with love.
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!
1 Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee?
2 My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
6 Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, I will get me unto the mountain of myrrh, And unto the hill of frankincense.
4 I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, How ye stir up, And how ye wake the love till she please!
5 Who `is' this coming from the wilderness, Hasting herself for her beloved? Under the citron-tree I have waked thee, There did thy mother pledge thee, There she gave a pledge `that' bare thee.
1 I have come in to my garden, my sister-spouse, I have plucked my myrrh with my spice, I have eaten my comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, drink, Yea, drink abundantly, O beloved ones!
2 I am sleeping, but my heart waketh: The sound of my beloved knocking! `Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one, For my head is filled `with' dew, My locks `with' drops of the night.'
12 A garden shut up `is' my sister-spouse, A spring shut up -- a fountain sealed.
13 Thy shoots a paradise of pomegranates, With precious fruits,
5 I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes or by the hinds of the field, Stir not up nor wake the love till she please!
6 Who `is' this coming up from the wilderness, Like palm-trees of smoke, Perfumed `with' myrrh and frankincense, From every powder of the merchant?
1 Let me sing, I pray you, for my beloved, A song of my beloved as to his vineyard: My beloved hath a vineyard in a fruitful hill,
8 Come from Lebanon, come thou in. Look from the top of Amana, From the top of Shenir and Hermon, From the habitations of lions, From the mountains of leopards.
2 Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth, For better `are' thy loves than wine.
10 How wonderful have been thy loves, my sister-spouse, How much better have been thy loves than wine, And the fragrance of thy perfumes than all spices.
4 Draw me: after thee we run, The king hath brought me into his inner chambers, We do joy and rejoice in thee, We mention thy loves more than wine, Uprightly they have loved thee!
7 Declare to me, thou whom my soul hath loved, Where thou delightest, Where thou liest down at noon, For why am I as one veiled, By the ranks of thy companions?
11 Unto a garden of nuts I went down, To look on the buds of the valley, To see whither the vine had flourished, The pomegranates had blossomed --
22 Do not fear, O cattle of the field! For sprung forth have pastures of a wilderness, For the tree hath borne its fruit, Fig-tree and vine have given their strength!
11 And the fig saith to them, Have I ceased from my sweetness, and my good increase, that I have gone to stagger over the trees?
5 I rose to open to my beloved, And my hands dropped myrrh, Yea, my fingers flowing myrrh, On the handles of the lock.