MLV(i)
13 The fig tree ripens her green figs and the vines are in blossom. They give forth their fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one and come away. 14 O my dove, who are in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the steep place, let me see your countenance; let me hear your voice. Because sweet is your voice and your countenance is becoming.
Arise, my love, my fair one and come away. 14 O my dove, who are in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the steep place, let me see your countenance; let me hear your voice. Because sweet is your voice and your countenance is becoming.