Song of Songs 8:1-7

I wish you were like my brother who fed at my mother’s breasts. If I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would look down on me. I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house; she is the one who taught me. I would give you a drink of spiced wine from my pomegranates. My lover’s left hand is under my head, and his right arm holds me tight. Women of Jerusalem, promise not to awaken or excite my feelings of love until it is ready. Who is this coming out of the desert, leaning on her lover? I woke you under the apple tree where you were born; there your mother gave birth to you. Put me like a seal on your heart, like a seal on your arm. Love is as strong as death; jealousy is as strong as the grave. Love bursts into flames and burns like a hot fire. Even much water cannot put out the flame of love; floods cannot drown love. If a man offered everything in his house for love, people would totally reject it.