Chapter 8

If only I could treat you like my brother, one who nursed at my mother's breasts, I would find you in public and kiss you, and no one would scorn me.
I would lead you, I would take you, to the house of my mother who taught me.

I would give you spiced wine to drink from the juice of my pomegranate.

May his left hand be under my head, and his right arm embrace me.
Young women of Jerusalem, I charge you, do not stir up or awaken love until the appropriate time.
Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on the one she loves? I awakened you under the apricot tree. There your mother conceived you; there she conceived and gave you birth.
Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death; jealousy is as unrelenting as Sheol. Love's flames are fiery flames-- an almighty flame!
A huge torrent cannot extinguish love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If a man were to give all his wealth for love, it would be utterly scorned.
Our sister is young; she has no breasts.

What will we do for our sister on the day she is spoken for?

If she is a wall, we will build a silver barricade on her. If she is a door, we will enclose her with cedar planks.
I am a wall and my breasts like towers.

So to him I have become like one who finds peace.

Each was to bring for his fruit one thousand pieces of silver.

I have my own vineyard. The one thousand are for you, Solomon, but two hundred for those who take care of its fruits.
You who dwell in the gardens, companions are listening for your voice; let me hear you!
Run away with me, my love, and be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountains of spices.