||Bride to Chorus: The voice of my beloved! Behold, he arrives leaping along the mountains, jumping across the hills.
||My beloved is like a doe and like a young stag.
||Lo, he stands beyond our wall, gazing through the windows, watching through the lattices.
||Lo, my beloved speaks to me:
||Groom to Bride: Rise up, quickly, my love, my dove, my shapely one, and advance.
||For winter has now past; the rain has decreased and gone away.
||The flowers have appeared in our land; the time for pruning has arrived. The voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.