Song of Songs 2:15
Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes -- destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweet-smelling vineyards.
Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes -- destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweet-smelling vineyards.
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16My beloved `is' mine, and I `am' his, Who is delighting among the lilies,
17Till 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!
12The flowers have appeared in the earth, The time of the singing hath come, And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land,
13The 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.
14My 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.
8I 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,
9And thy palate as the good wine --' Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!
10I `am' my beloved's, and on me `is' his desire.
11Come, my beloved, we go forth to the field,
12We 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;
1Let 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,
2And he fenceth it, and casteth out its stones, And planteth it `with' a choice vine, And buildeth a tower in its midst, And also a wine press hath hewn out in it, And he waiteth for the yielding of grapes, And it yieldeth bad ones!
14A cluster of cypress `is' my beloved to me, In the vineyards of En-Gedi!
15Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, Lo, thou `art' fair, thine eyes `are' doves!
13The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,
14Or to a young one of the harts on mountains of spices!
7I 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!
8The voice of my beloved! lo, this -- he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
9My 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.
10My beloved hath answered and said to me, `Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away,
15A fount of gardens, a well of living waters, And flowings from Lebanon!
16Awake, 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!
12A garden shut up `is' my sister-spouse, A spring shut up -- a fountain sealed.
1I 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!
2I 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.'
8Come 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.
9Thou hast emboldened me, my sister-spouse, Emboldened me with one of thine eyes, With one chain of thy neck.
18For the mount of Zion -- that is desolate, Foxes have gone up on it.
18Come, we are filled `with' loves till the morning, We delight ourselves in loves.
5I 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!
1Whither hath thy beloved gone, O fair among women? Whither hath thy beloved turned, And we seek him with thee?
2My beloved went down to his garden, To the beds of the spice, To delight himself in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
3I `am' my beloved's, and my beloved `is' mine, Who is delighting himself among the lilies.
12Why hast Thou broken down its hedges, And all passing by the way have plucked it?
13A boar out of the forest doth waste it, And a wild beast of the fields consumeth it.
2Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth, For better `are' thy loves than wine.
19A hind of loves, and a roe of grace! Let her loves satisfy thee at all times, In her love magnify thyself continually.
7Declare 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?
8If thou knowest not, O fair among women, Get thee forth by the traces of the flock, And feed thy kids by the shepherds' dwellings!
3As 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.
8We 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?
5For before harvest, when the flower is perfect, And the blossom is producing unripe fruit, Then hath `one' cut the sprigs with pruning hooks, And the branches he hath turned aside, cut down.
5Thy two breasts `are' as two fawns, Twins of a roe, that are feeding among lilies.
6Till 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.
5Sustain me with grape-cakes, Support me with citrons, for I `am' sick with love.
4Draw 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!
4As foxes in the wastes, Thy prophets, O Israel, have been.
5And now, pray, let me cause you to know, That which I am doing to my vineyard, To turn aside its hedge, And it hath been for consumption, To break down its wall, And it hath been for a treading-place.
5Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair `is' as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,
1Lo, thou `art' fair, my friend, lo, thou `art' fair, Thine eyes `are' doves behind thy veil, Thy hair as a row of the goats That have shone from mount Gilead,