The Lover to His Beloved:
1:8 If you do not know, O most beautiful of women,
simply follow the tracks of my flock,
and pasture your little lambs
beside the tents of the shepherds.
The Beloved to Her Lover:
8:1 Oh, how I wish you were my little brother,
nursing at my mother’s breasts;
if I saw you outside, I could kiss you –
surely no one would despise me!