The lotus trees conceal it in their shadow; the poplars by the stream conceal it.

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.

They will say, ‘Prepare to do battle against it! Come on! Let’s attack it at noon!’ But later they will say, ‘Oh, oh! Too bad! The day is almost over and the shadows of evening are getting long.