Song of Solomon 8

1Who would give you to me as a brother who nursed my mother's breasts? If I found you outside, I would kiss you; indeed, no one would despise me.

2I would lead you and bring you into my mother's house, where she would teach me; I would give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranate.

3His left hand beneath my head, his right hand embracing me.

4I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, why stir up, and why awaken love until it desires?

5Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I roused you; there your mother labored with you, there she labored and bore you.

6Place me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm, for love is as mighty as death; jealousy is as cruel as Sheol—its coals are coals of fire, the flame of Yah.

7Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it; if a man gave all the wealth of his house for love, they would utterly despise him.

8We have a little sister, and she has no breasts. What will we do for our sister in the day she is spoken for?

9If she is a wall, we will build a silver tower upon her; and if she is a door, we will enclose her with cedar panels.

10I am a wall, and my breasts like towers; then I was in his eyes like one finding peace.

11Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he gave the vineyard to the keepers, each man to bring a thousand silver for its fruit.

12My vineyard, which is mine, lies before me. The thousand is yours, Solomon, and two hundred for those who tend its fruit.

13You who sit in the gardens, companions listening to your voice—let me hear it.

14Flee away, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.