The Beloved to Her Lover:
8:1 Oh, how I wish you were
nursing at my mother’s breasts;
if I saw
surely
8:2 I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house,
the one who taught me.
I would give you
the nectar of my pomegranates.
The Beloved about Her Lover:
8:3 His left hand caresses my head,
and his right hand stimulates me.