Song of Songs 8
1 If only you were like a brother to me, nursed at my mother’s breast! If I met you in the street, I could kiss you, and no one would despise me.
2 I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house—she would teach me—and give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranates.
3 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me.
4 I make you swear, daughters of Jerusalem: do not stir up or awaken love until it wishes.
5 Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I awakened you; there your mother was in labor with you, there she who gave birth to you was in labor.
6 Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death, and jealousy is as relentless as Sheol. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a flame of the LORD.
7 Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it. If someone offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be utterly despised.
8 We have a little sister, and she has no breasts yet. What shall we do for our sister on the day she is spoken for?
9 If she is a wall, we will build a silver tower on her; if she is a door, we will enclose her with cedar boards.
10 I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers. Then I was in his eyes like one who finds peace.
11 Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he gave the vineyard to keepers, and each brought a thousand pieces of silver for its fruit.
12 My own vineyard is before me. The thousand are yours, Solomon, and two hundred for those who keep its fruit.
13 You who dwell in the gardens, your companions are listening for your voice; let me hear it.
14 Flee, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.
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