The Song of Songs 7:8

7:8 I want to climb the palm tree,

and take hold of its fruit stalks.

May your breasts be like the clusters of grapes,

and may the fragrance of your breath be like apricots!

The Song of Songs 8:1

The Beloved’s Wish Song

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!

The Song of Songs 8:8

The Brother’s Plan and the Sister’s Reward

The Beloved’s Brothers:

8:8 We have a little sister,

and as yet she has no breasts.

What shall we do for our sister

on the day when she is spoken for?