LXX2012(i)
8 The voice of my kinsman! behold, he comes leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.
9 My kinsman is like a roe or a young hart on the mountains of Baethel: behold, he is behind our wall, looking through the windows, peeping through the lattices.
10 My kinsman answers, and says to me, Rise up, come, my companion, my fair one, my dove.
11 For, behold, the winter is past, the rain is gone, it has departed.
12 The flowers are seen in the land; the time of pruning has arrived; the voice of the turtle-dove has been heard in our land.
13 The fig tree has put forth its young figs, the vines put forth the tender grape, they yield a smell: arise, come, my companion, my fair one, my dove; yes, come.
14 [You are] my dove, in the shelter of the rock, near the wall: show me your face, and cause me to hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your countenance is beautiful.