8 Oh that you were like a brother to me
    who nursed at my mother's breasts!
If I found you outside, I would kiss you,
    and none would despise me.
² I would lead you and bring you
    into the house of my mother—
    she who used to teach me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink,
    the juice of my pomegranate.
³ His left hand is under my head,
    and his right hand embraces me!
⁴ I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
    that you not stir up or awaken love
    until it pleases.

⁸ We have a little sister,
    and she has no breasts.
What shall we do for our sister
    on the day when she is spoken for?
⁹ If she is a wall,
    we will build on her a battlement of silver,
but if she is a door,
    we will enclose her with boards of cedar.

¹⁰ I was a wall,
    and my breasts were like towers;
then I was in his eyes
    as one who finds^[d] peace.

¹³ O you who dwell in the gardens,
    with companions listening for your voice;
    let me hear it.

¹⁴ Make haste, my beloved,
    and be like a gazelle
or a young stag
    on the mountains of spices.