11 For, behold, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone.
12 The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing has come, And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree ripens her green figs. The vines are in blossom; They give forth their fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, And come away. Lover
14 My dove in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding places of the mountainside, Let me see your face. Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.
15 Catch for us the foxes, The little foxes that spoil the vineyards; For our vineyards are in blossom. Beloved