YLT(i)
8 The voice of my beloved! lo, this—he is coming, Leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
9 My beloved is like to a roe, Or to a young one of the harts. Lo, this—he is standing behind our wall, Looking from the windows, Blooming from the lattice.
10 My beloved hath answered and said to me, `Rise up, my friend, my fair one, and come away,
11 For lo, the winter hath passed by, The rain hath passed away—it hath gone.
12 The flowers have appeared in the earth, The time of the singing hath come, And the voice of the turtle was heard in our land,
13 The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.
14 My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice is sweet, and thy appearance comely.
14 My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice is sweet, and thy appearance comely.