Song of Songs 2:1-10

I’m just a wildflower picked from the plains of Sharon, a lotus blossom from the valley pools. A lotus blossoming in a swamp of weeds— that’s my dear friend among the girls in the village. As an apricot tree stands out in the forest, my lover stands above the young men in town. All I want is to sit in his shade, to taste and savor his delicious love. He took me home with him for a festive meal, but his eyes feasted on me! Oh! Give me something refreshing to eat—and quickly! Apricots, raisins—anything. I’m about to faint with love! His left hand cradles my head, and his right arm encircles my waist! Oh, let me warn you, sisters in Jerusalem, by the gazelles, yes, by all the wild deer: Don’t excite love, don’t stir it up, until the time is ripe—and you’re ready. Look! Listen! There’s my lover! Do you see him coming? Vaulting the mountains, leaping the hills. My lover is like a gazelle, graceful; like a young stag, virile. Look at him there, on tiptoe at the gate, all ears, all eyes—ready! My lover has arrived and he’s speaking to me!

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