The Gazelle
(Song of Songs, 2:2-17)
Hark! My beloved!
There he comes,
Leaping over mountains,
Bounding over hills,
My beloved is like a gazelle
Or a young stag.
There he stands behind our wall,
Gazing through the window,
Peering through he lattice.
My beloved spoke thus to me:
“Arise, my darling;
My fair one, come away!
For now the winter is past,
The rains are over and gone.
The blossoms have appeared in the land,
The time of pruning has come;
The song of the turtledove
Is heard in our land.
The green figs from the fig tree
The vines in blossom give off fragrance
Arise my darling;
My fair one, come away!”
“Oh my dove, in the cranny of the rocks,
Hidden by the cliff,
Let me see your face,
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet
And your face is comely.”
Catch us the foxes,
The little foxes
That ruin the vineyards–
For our vineyard is in blossom.
My beloved is mine
And I am his
Who browses among the lilies’
When the day blows gently
And the shadows flee,
Set out, my beloved,
Swift as a gazelle
Or a young stag,
For the hills of spices!
