Do not look on me, that I am black, that the sun has looked on me. My mother's sons were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but my vineyard I have not kept.

Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vines have tender grapes.

Behold, you are beautiful, My love. Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are like doves' from behind your veil; your hair is like a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead.

Awake, O north wind; and come, south wind; blow on my garden, so that the spices of it may flow out. Let my Beloved come into His garden and eat His pleasant fruits.

I sleep, but my heart is awake. It is the sound of my Beloved that knocks, saying, Open to Me, My sister, My love, My dove, My undefiled; for My head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my Beloved, what do you tell Him? That I am sick with love.

What is your Beloved more than another beloved, most beautiful among women? What is your Beloved more than another beloved, that you adjure us so?

Turn away your eyes from Me, for they have overcome Me; your hair is like a flock of goats that appears from Gilead.

Return, return, O Shulamite! Return, return, that we may look on you. What will you see in the Shulamite? As it were the dance of two camps.

and the roof of your mouth like the best wine for my Beloved, that goes down smoothly for my Beloved, flowing softly over the lips of sleeping ones.