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.”