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¹¹ for now the winter is past,
   the rain is over and gone.
¹² The flowers appear on the earth;
   the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtle-dove
   is heard in our land.
¹³ The fig tree puts forth its figs,
   and the vines are in blossom;
   they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
   and come away.
¹⁴ O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
   in the covert of the cliff,
let me see your face,
   let me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet,
   and your face is lovely.
¹⁵ Catch us the foxes,
   the little foxes,
that ruin the vineyards—
   for our vineyards are in blossom.’

¹⁶ My beloved is mine and I am his;
   he pastures his flock among the lilies.
¹⁷ Until the day breathes
   and the shadows flee,
turn, my beloved, be like a gazelle
   or a young stag on the cleft mountains.^*