updv - 8

updv@Songs:8:1 @ Oh that you were as my brother, That nursed the breasts of my mother! [When] I should find you outside, I would kiss you; Yes, and none would despise me.

updv@Songs:8:2 @ I would lead you, [and] bring you into my mother's house, Who would instruct me; I would cause you to drink of spiced wine, Of the juice of my pomegranate.

updv@Songs:8:3 @ His left hand [should be] under my head, And his right hand should embrace me.

updv@Songs:8:4 @ I adjure you(note:){+}(:note), O daughters of Jerusalem, That you{+} do not stir up, nor awake [my] love, Until he pleases.

updv@Songs:8:5 @ Who is this that comes up from the wilderness, Leaning on her beloved? Under the apple-tree I awakened you: There your mother was in travail with you, There she who brought you forth was in travail.

updv@Songs:8:6 @ Set me as a seal on your heart, As a seal on your arm: For love is as strong as death; Jealousy is as cruel as Sheol; The flashes of it are flashes of fire, An intense flame of Yahweh.

updv@Songs:8:7 @ Many waters can't quench love, Neither can floods drown it: If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, He would be completely despised.

updv@Songs:8:8 @ We have a little sister, And she has no breasts: What shall we do for our sister In the day when she will be spoken for?

updv@Songs:8:9 @ If she is a wall, We will build on her a turret of silver: And if she is a door, We will enclose her with boards of cedar.

updv@Songs:8:10 @ I am a wall, and my breasts like the towers [of it]: Then I was in his eyes as one who found peace.

updv@Songs:8:11 @ Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; He let out the vineyard to keepers; Every one for its fruit was to bring a thousand [pieces] of silver.

updv@Songs:8:12 @ My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: You, O Solomon, will have the thousand, And those who keep its fruit two hundred.

updv@Songs:8:13 @ You who dwell in the gardens, My fellow shepherds listen for your voice: Cause me to hear it.

updv@Songs:8:14 @ Hurry, my beloved, And be like a roe or to a young hart On the mountains of spices.

Songs 8