13. The fig-tree hath ripened her green figs, And the sweet-smelling vines have given forth fragrance, Rise, come, my friend, my fair one, yea, come away.
14. My dove, in clefts of the rock, In a secret place of the ascent, Cause me to see thine appearance, Cause me to hear thy voice, For thy voice [is] sweet, and thy appearance comely.
15. Seize ye for us foxes, Little foxes--destroyers of vineyards, Even our sweetsmelling vineyards.
16. My beloved [is] mine, and I [am] his, Who is delighting among the lilies,
17. Till the day doth break forth, And the shadows have fled away, Turn, be like, my beloved, To a roe, or to a young one of the harts, On the mountains of separation!