8
1I wish that you were my brother,
that my mother had nursed you at her breast.
Then, if I met you in the street,
I could kiss you and no one would mind.
2I would take you to my mother's house,
where you could teach me love.
I would give you spiced wine,
my pomegranate wine to drink.
3Your left-hand is under my head,
and your right-hand caresses me.
4Promise me, women of Jerusalem,
that you will not interrupt our love.
The Sixth Song
The Women
5Who is this coming from the desert,
arm in arm with her lover?
The Woman
Under the apple tree I woke you,
in the place where you were born.
6Close your heart to every love but mine;
hold no one in your arms but me.
Love is as powerful as death;
passion is as strong as death itself.
It bursts into flame
and burns like a raging fire.
7Water cannot put it out;
no flood can drown it.
But if anyone tried to buy love with wealth,
contempt is all they would get.
The Woman's Brothers
8We have a young sister,
and her breasts are still small.
What will we do for her
when a young man comes courting?
9If she is a wall,
we will build her a silver tower.
But if she is a gate,
we will protect her with panels of cedar.
The Woman
10I am a wall,
and my breasts are its towers.
My lover knows that with him
I find contentment and peace.
The Man
11Solomon has a vineyard
in a place called Baal Hamon.
There are farmers who rent it from him;
each one pays a thousand silver coins.
12Solomon is welcome to his thousand coins,
and the farmers to 200 as their share;
I have a vineyard of my own!
13Let me hear your voice from the garden, my love;
my companions are waiting to hear you speak.
The Woman
14Come to me, my lover, like a gazelle,
like a young stag on the mountains where spices grow.
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