O that you were like a brother to me, that nursed at my mother's breast! If I met you outside, I would kiss you, and none would despise me.
I would lead you and bring you into the house of my mother, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranates.
O that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand embraced me!
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that you stir not up nor awaken love until it please.
Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? Under the apple tree I awakened you. There your mother was in travail with you, there she who bore you was in travail.
Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a most vehement flame.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If a man offered for love all the wealth of his house, it would be utterly scorned.
We have a little sister, and she has no breasts. What shall we do for our sister, on the day when she is spoken for?
If she is a wall, we will build upon her a battlement of silver; but if she is a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar.