Singing of the songs. Chapter eight. Oh, if you were like a
brother of mine who sucked my mother' s breasts, then, finding you
out, I' d kiss you and not belittle me. I' d
take you, put you in my mother' s house. You would teach
me and I would make you drink wine marinated from the must of my grenades.
His left is under my head and his right. I embrace you,
I conjure you. O Maidens of Jerusalem, do not despair or watch love
until I want this one who comes up from the wilderness lying on her beloved
under an apple tree I have awakened you. Your mother had pains there.
There was sorrows that she gave to you as a seal upon your heart,
as a mark upon your arm; for strong is as death is hard love
as seon jealousy, her coals of burning fire flames the many waters will not
be able to extinguish love, nor will the rivers drown it. If a
man were to give, all the goods of his house for this true love
would despise him. We have a little sister who has no breasts. What
we' ll do to our sister when she gets talked about. If she
is a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver. If
it' s a door, we' ll keep it with cedar boards.
I am a wall and my breasts are like towers. Ever since I went
in his sight, like the one who made peace, Solomon had a vineyard
in Baal Ammon, which he gave to keepers, each of whom was to
bring a thousand pieces of silver for his fruit. My vineyard, which is
mine, is before me. Thou shalt have a thousand, O Solomon,
and two hundred for them that keep their fruit, O thou that dwellest in
the gardens. The companions listen to your voice, make me hear it quickly,
my beloved, and already like the corsus and the servatilio on the mountains
of aromas.