Ah, why are thou not my brother, nursed at my mother’s breast! When I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, and none would despise me.

I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, that thou mightest instruct me; I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine, of the juice of my pomegranate. 

Under the apple-tree I awakened thee; there thy mother was in travail with thee; there was she in travail and brought thee forth. 

Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave; the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the Lord.                      Sg.8, 1-6