The Beloved to Her Lover:
8:1 Oh, how I wish you were my little brother,
nursing at my mother’s breasts;
if I saw you outside, I could kiss you –
surely no one would despise me!
8:2 I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house,
the one who taught me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink,
the nectar of my pomegranates.