CHAPTER 8

                ¹Would that you were a brother to me,

                    suckling my mother’s breasts.

                I would find you in the street, would kiss you,

                    and they would show no scorn for me.

                ²I would lead you, I would bring you

                    to my mother’s house, she would teach me.

                I would give you spiced wine to drink,

                    from my pomegranate wine.

                ³His left hand beneath my head,

                    his right hand embracing me.

                ⁴I make you swear, O daughters of Jerusalem,

                    that you shall not rouse nor stir love

                          until it pleases.

                ⁵Who is this coming up from the desert

                    leaning on her lover?

                Under the quince tree I roused you.

                    There your mother conceived you,

                          there she who bore you conceived you.

                ⁶Set me as a seal on your heart,

                    as a seal on your arm.

                For strong as death is love,

                    fierce as Sheol is

                Its sparks are fiery sparks,

                    a fearsome flame.

                ⁷Many waters cannot

                    put out love

                          nor rivers sweep it away.

                Should a man give

                    all the wealth of his house for love,

                          they would surely scorn him.

                ⁸We have a little sister

                    and she has no breasts.

                What shall we do for our sister

                    on the day she is spoken for?

                ⁹If she is a wall,

                    we will build on her a silver turret.

                If she is a door,

                    we will besiege her with cedar boards.

                ¹⁰—I am a wall

                    and my breasts are like

                Then I was in his eyes

                    like a town that finds peace.

                ¹¹A vineyard Solomon had

                    in the Vale of Wealth.

                He gave the vineyard to the keepers:

                    each would get from its fruit

                    a thousand silver shekels.

                ¹²My vineyard is my own.

                    You can have the thousand, Solomon,

                          and two hundred for the keepers of its fruit.

                ¹³You who dwell in the garden,

                    friends listen for your voice.

                          Let me hear it.

                ¹⁴—Flee my lover and be like a deer

                    or like a gazelle

                          on the spice mountains.