7 I say to you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes of the field, do not let love be moved till it is ready.
8 The voice of my loved one! See, he comes dancing on the mountains, stepping quickly on the hills.
9 My loved one is like a roe; see, he is on the other side of our wall, he is looking in at the windows, letting himself be seen through the spaces.
10 My loved one said to me, Get up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
11 For, see, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
12 The flowers are come on the earth; the time of cutting the vines is come, and the voice of the dove is sounding in our land;
13 The fig-tree puts out her green fruit and the vines with their young fruit give a good smell. Get up from your bed, my beautiful one, and come away.
