The Beloved to Her Lover: Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved – be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountain gorges.

Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, I will go up to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Awake, O north wind; come, O south wind! Blow on my garden so that its fragrant spices may send out their sweet smell. May my beloved come into his garden and eat its delightful fruit!