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I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
    by the gazelles or the does of the field,
do not stir up or awaken love
    until it pleases.

The voice of my beloved!
    Look, he comes
leaping over the mountains,
    bounding over the hills.
My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.
    Look, he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows,
    looking through the lattice.

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