Song of Songs 8

1If only you were like a brother to me, who nursed at my mother’s breasts! Then if I found you outside, I could kiss you, and no one would look down on me. 2I would lead you and bring you into my mother’s house, and she would teach me; I would give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranates. 3His left arm is under my head, and his right arm holds me close. 4Swear to me, women of Jerusalem: do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready.

5Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I woke you; there your mother was in labor with you; there she went into labor and gave you birth. 6Set me as a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm, for love is as strong as death, its passion as relentless as Sheol. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a mighty flame. 7Mighty waters cannot put out love, and rivers cannot wash it away. If a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be laughed to scorn.

8We have a young sister, and she has no breasts yet. What will we do for our sister when the day comes that she is asked for in marriage? 9If she is a wall, we will build towers of silver on her; if she is a door, we will board her up with planks of cedar. 10I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers; so in his eyes I became one who finds peace.

11Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he leased the vineyard to tenants; each was to pay a thousand pieces of silver for its fruit. 12My own vineyard is mine to give. You, Solomon, may have the thousand, and those who tend its fruit two hundred. 13You who sit in the gardens, friends are listening for your voice; let me hear it. 14Hurry, my beloved, be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.