“The sound of my dear one! Look! This one is coming, climbing upon the mountains, leaping upon the hills. My dear one is resembling a gazelle or the young of the stags. Look! This one is standing behind our wall, gazing through the windows, glancing through the lattices. My dear one has answered and said to me, ‘Rise up, you girl companion of mine, my beautiful one, and come away. For, look! the rainy season itself has passed, the downpour itself is over, it has gone its way. Blossoms themselves have appeared in the land, the very time of vine trimming has arrived, and the voice of the turtledove itself has been heard in our land. As for the fig tree, it has gained a mature color for its early figs; and the vines are abloom, they have given [their] fragrance. Rise up, come, O girl companion of mine, my beautiful one, and come away. O my dove in the retreats of the crag, in the concealed place of the steep way, show me your form, let me hear your voice, for your voice is pleasurable and your form is comely.