For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over and
The blossoms have already
appeared in the land; The time has arrived for pruning the vines,
And the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.
The fig tree has ripened its fruit, And the vines in blossom have given forth their
fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, And come along!’?'
'My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the hiding place of the mountain pathway, Let me see how you look, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is pleasant, And you look delightful.'