# Chapter 8
1 Oh, I wish you were my brother,
    who nursed at my mother’s breasts.
Then I could kiss you no matter who was watching,
    and no one would criticize me.
2 I would bring you to my childhood home,
    and there you would teach me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink,
    my sweet pomegranate wine.
3 Your left arm would be under my head,
    and your right arm would embrace me.
4 Promise me, O women of Jerusalem,
    not to awaken love until the time is right.
5 Who is this sweeping in from the desert,
    leaning on her lover?
I aroused you under the apple tree,
    where your mother gave you birth,
    where in great pain she delivered you.
6 Place me like a seal over your heart,
    like a seal on your arm.
For love is as strong as death,
    its jealousy as enduring as the grave.
Love flashes like fire,
    the brightest kind of flame.
7 Many waters cannot quench love,
    nor can rivers drown it.
If a man tried to buy love
    with all his wealth,
    his offer would be utterly scorned.
8 We have a little sister
    too young to have breasts.
What will we do for our sister
    if someone asks to marry her?
9 If she is a virgin, like a wall,
    we will protect her with a silver tower.
But if she is promiscuous, like a swinging door,
    we will block her door with a cedar bar.
10 I was a virgin, like a wall;
    now my breasts are like towers.
When my lover looks at me,
    he is delighted with what he sees.
11 Solomon has a vineyard at Baal-hamon,
    which he leases out to tenant farmers.
Each of them pays a thousand pieces of silver
    for harvesting its fruit.
12 But my vineyard is mine to give,
    and Solomon need not pay a thousand pieces of silver.
But I will give two hundred pieces
    to those who care for its vines.
13 O my darling, lingering in the gardens,
    your companions are fortunate to hear your voice.
    Let me hear it, too!
14 Come away, my love! Be like a gazelle
    or a young stag on the mountains of spices.