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12 Blossoms appear in the land,
    the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtle-dove
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree ripens its early figs.
    The blossoming vines give off their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling,
    my pretty one, and come, come!
14 My dove, in the clefts of the rock,
    in a secret place along the steep path,
    let me see your form,
    let me hear your voice.
For your voice is sweet
    and your form is lovely.”

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