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Cantique des cantiquesChapitre 8

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If only you were my brother, nursed at my mother's breast! Then I could kiss you when I found you in the street, and no one would despise me for it.
I would lead you and bring you to my mother's house — she would teach me — and I would give you spiced wine to drink, the juice of my pomegranates.
His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me.
I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem: do not stir up, do not awaken love until it desires.
Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on the one she loves? Under the apple tree I awakened you; there your mother travailed with you, there she travailed who gave you birth.
Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is as strong as death, its passion as unyielding as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a flame of the LORD.
Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers wash it away. If a man offered all the wealth of his house for love, he would be utterly scorned.
We have a little sister, and her breasts are not yet grown. What shall we do for our sister on the day she is spoken for?
If she is a wall, we will build turrets of silver upon her; if she is a door, we will enclose her with panels of cedar.
I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers. So in his eyes I have become as one who finds peace.
Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon. He leased the vineyard to caretakers; each was to bring for its fruit a thousand pieces of silver.
My own vineyard is before me. The thousand is yours, Solomon, and two hundred for those who tend its fruit.
You who dwell in the gardens, companions are listening for your voice — let me hear it!
Hurry away, my beloved! Be like a gazelle or a young stag upon the mountains of spices.
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