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Singing of the songs. Chapter two. I am the rose of saron and

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the lily of the valleys, like
the lily among the thorns. So is

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my friend, among the maidens,
like the apple tree, among the wild

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trees, So is my beloved among
the young. Under the shadow of the

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desired one I sat and its fruit
was sweet to my palate. He took

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me to the banquet house and his
flag on me It was love, sustain

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me with raisins, comfort me with
apples, because I am sick of love.

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His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me,

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I adjure you, O Doncellias of
Jerusalem, by the Corsicans and by

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the hinds of the field, that
you neither awoke nor make love watch until

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I desire the voice of my beloved. Here. He comes jumping on the

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mountains jumping on the hills. My
beloved is like a roe or a whip.

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He goes here, he' s
behind our wall looking through the windows,

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gliding at the lattices. My beloved
spoke and said," Arise,

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O friend, mine, beautiful,
mine, and come, for behold"

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The winter has passed, the rain
has moved away, the flowers have been

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shown on earth. The time of
the song has come and in our country

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the voice of the turtledove has been
heard. The fig tree has poured out

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its figs and the budding vines have
given odor. Arise, O friend,

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mine, beautiful, mine, and
come, my pigeon that thou art in

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the holes of the rock. He
hid it from steep spots. Show me

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your face, make me hear from
your voice, for sweet is your beautiful

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voice. Your look hunt us down. The foxes, the little bitches that

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spoil the vines, because our vines
are in the bud. My beloved is

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mine and I am yours. He
feeds among lilies until the day is set

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and the shadows run away. Turn
around. My beloved, be like the

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corsus, or like the young berth
on the mountains of Beter.