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.
The Beloved to the Maidens:
8:4 I admonish you, O maidens
“Do not
The Maidens about His Beloved:
8:5 Who is this coming up from the desert,
leaning on her beloved?
The Beloved to Her Lover:
Under the apple tree I aroused you;
there your mother conceived you,
there she who bore you was in labor of childbirth.