Song of Solomon 8

8 ¹Oh, that you were like a brother to me, who nursed at my mother's breasts! If I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would despise me. ²I would lead you and bring you into my mother's house—she who taught me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranate. ³His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me. ⁴I urge you, daughters of Jerusalem: do not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.

⁵Who is this rising from the desert, leaning on the one she loves? Under the apple tree I woke you; there your mother was in labor for you, there she who bore you labored.

⁶Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It flashes like fire, the very flame of our Father. ^a a v6 Love's fire here is named after God himself — this love burns with the very flame of our Father, the deepest source of all true and unquenchable love. ⁷Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers sweep it away. If a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

⁸We have a little sister, and she has no breasts. What should we do for our sister on the day she is spoken for? ⁹If she is a wall, we will build on her a tower of silver; but if she is a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar.

¹⁰I was a wall, and my breasts were like towers; then in his eyes I became like one who finds peace. ¹¹Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he rented it out to tenant farmers, and each was to bring 1,000 pieces of silver for its fruit. ¹²My vineyard, my very own, is before me. The 1,000 are yours, Solomon, and 200 for those who keep its fruit.

¹³You who live in the gardens, my companions are listening for your voice; let me hear it.

¹⁴Come quickly, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.