See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;1 the blossoming2 vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me."
My dove3 in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.415
Catch for us the foxes,5 the little foxes that ruin the vineyards,6 our vineyards that are in bloom.7