Deliver yourself like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, And like a bird from the hand of the fowler.
Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler And from the perilous pestilence.
Our soul has escaped as a bird from the snare of the fowlers; The snare is broken, and we have escaped.
Surely, in vain the net is spread In the sight of any bird;
In the Lord I put my trust; How can you say to my soul, “Flee as a bird to your mountain”?
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles or by the does of the field, Do not stir up nor awaken love Until it pleases.
My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Behold, he stands behind our wall; He is looking through the windows, Gazing through the lattice.