Singing of the songs. Chapter two. I am the rose of saron and the lily of the valleys, like the lily among the thorns. So is my friend, among the maidens, like the apple tree, among the wild trees, So is my beloved among the young. Under the shadow of the desired one I sat and its fruit was sweet to my palate. He took me to the banquet house and his flag on me It was love, sustain me with raisins, comfort me with apples, because I am sick of love.
His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me, I adjure you, O Doncellias of Jerusalem, by the Corsicans and by the hinds of the field, that you neither awoke nor make love watch until I desire the voice of my beloved. Here. He comes jumping on the mountains jumping on the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a whip. He goes here, he' s behind our wall looking through the windows,
gliding at the lattices. My beloved spoke and said," Arise, O friend, mine, beautiful, mine, and come, for behold" The winter has passed, the rain has moved away, the flowers have been shown on earth. The time of the song has come and in our country the voice of the turtledove has been heard. The fig tree has poured out its figs and the budding vines have given odor. Arise, O friend, mine, beautiful, mine, and come, my pigeon that thou art in
the holes of the rock. He hid it from steep spots. Show me your face, make me hear from your voice, for sweet is your beautiful voice. Your look hunt us down. The foxes, the little bitches that spoil the vines, because our vines are in the bud. My beloved is mine and I am yours. He feeds among lilies until the day is set and the shadows run away. Turn around. My beloved, be like the corsus, or like the young berth on the mountains of Beter.