8 The voice of my lover! Behold, he is coming— leaping over the mountains, springing over the hills!
9 My lover is like a gazelle or a young buck among the stags. Look! He is standing behind our wall— gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.
10 In response my lover said to me: “Get yourself up, my darling, my pretty one, and come, come!
11 For behold, the winter has past, the rain is over, it has gone.
12 Blossoms appear in the land, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree ripens its early figs. The blossoming vines give off their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling, my pretty one, and come, come!
14 My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in a secret place along the steep path, let me see your form, let me hear your voice. For your voice is sweet and your form is lovely.”