You who dwell in the gardens,
where my companions are listening,
let me hear your voice,
let me hear your voice.
Flee, my beloved,
like a gazelle,
like a young stag,
on the sweet scented mountains.
I am in his eyes
as one who has found peace,
my vineyard is here in front of me,
my vineyard is here in front of me,
Flee, my beloved,
like a gazelle,
like a young stag,
on the sweet scented mountains.
You who dwell in the gardens…
The Church through Baptism has been introduced into the gardens of the Kingdom "where the
companions are listening."
There, as she has been made mother and teacher of all nations because of the experience of
love she has received and because of the suffering, the joys, the failures, the recoveries and – we
could say – because of the history of salvation that the Song of Songs expresses, the Church is
invited by the Bridegroom to let her voice be heard in a final yearning.
The Church answers with an eschatological paschal cry: what she has come to know and
experienced of the Bridegroom makes her desire to flee with him in a final exodus "to the sweet
scented mountains," which is Heaven, forever free.

The voice of my beloved: Behold! Here he comes,
leaping on the mountains, skipping on the hills.
My beloved is like a gazelle,
like a young deer,
my beloved is like a gazelle.
Behold! He stands behind our wall
and looks in at the window, he peers through the lattice.
Now my beloved speaks and says to me:
"Arise, my beloved!
Arise my love, arise and come!"
"Arise, my beloved,
Arise my love, arise and come!"
Look, winter has already passed,
the rains are over, they have gone away,
the flowers have appeared on the earth,
the time for singing has come again
and the voice of the turtle dove has returned,
the fig-tree has blossomed with first fruits
and the grape vine gives off its scent.
"Arise, my beloved…
O my dove in the cleft of the rock,
in the hiding places of the cliffs,
let me hear your voice,
let me hear your voice.
Chase away the foxes, the little foxes
who spoil the vineyard.
For our vineyard is in blossom!
For our vineyard is in blossom!
My beloved is for me,
and I am for him.
Before the breeze blows
and the shadows of death grow longer,
return, return, return!
Return, return, return!

You stole my heart,
you stole my heart,
my sister, my bride,
you stole, you stole, my heart.
How beautiful your loves,
how beautiful your loves!
The fragrance of your perfumes
more than all the balsams of love.
Honey flows from your lips,
my bride, my sister,
honey and milk are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments
is the fragrance of Lebanon;
my sister, my bride,
tastier than wine are your loves.
A garden enclosed are you, sister of mine,
a sealed fountain, bride of mine!
Your fruits a paradise of pomegranates,
of nard and saffron, of myrrh and aloes
Awake wind, rise Auster, and come!
Blow in my garden
that it may release its scents,
and my beloved may enter my garden
and delight in its exquisite fruits.
I have already entered my garden,
my bride,
I have eaten my honey in its comb,
I have drunk my wine and my milk.
Friends, come! Drink, O my dear ones,
and get drunk!
You stole my heart…