Song of Songs 8:13
The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,
The companions are attending to thy voice, Cause me to hear. Flee, my beloved, and be like to a roe,
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14Or to a young one of the harts on mountains of spices!
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.
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!
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!
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,
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;
13The mandrakes have given fragrance, And at our openings all pleasant things, New, yea, old, my beloved, I laid up for thee!
12My 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!
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.
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.'
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!
16Lo, thou `art' fair, my love, yea, pleasant, Yea, our couch `is' green,
12A garden shut up `is' my sister-spouse, A spring shut up -- a fountain sealed.
13Thy shoots a paradise of pomegranates, With precious fruits,
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!
6Who `is' this coming up from the wilderness, Like palm-trees of smoke, Perfumed `with' myrrh and frankincense, From every powder of the merchant?
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.
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!
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,
2I lead thee, I bring thee in unto my mother's house, She doth teach me, I cause thee to drink of the perfumed wine, Of the juice of my pomegranate,
3His left hand `is' under my head, And his right doth embrace me.
4I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, How ye stir up, And how ye wake the love till she please!
5Who `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.
6How fair and how pleasant hast thou been, O love, in delights.
8I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved -- What do ye tell him? that I `am' sick with love!
9What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, O fair among women? What `is' thy beloved above `any' beloved, That thus thou hast adjured us?
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.
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!
3The watchmen have found me, (Who are going round about the city), `Him whom my soul have loved saw ye?'
2Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth, For better `are' thy loves than wine.
16His mouth is sweetness -- and all of him desirable, This `is' my beloved, and this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!
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.
6I opened to my beloved, But my beloved withdrew -- he passed on, My soul went forth when he spake, I sought him, and found him not. I called him, and he answered me not.
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,