Take me with you—let us hurry.
Oh, that the king would bring me to his chambers.

Y We will rejoice and be glad for you;
we will praise your love more than wine.

W It is only right that they adore you.

Do not stare at me because I am dark,
for the sun has gazed on me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me;
they made me a keeper of the vineyards.
I have not kept my own vineyard.

The guards who go about the city found me.
They beat and wounded me;
they took my cloak from me—
the guardians of the walls.

Turn your eyes away from me,
for they captivate me.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
streaming down from Gilead.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique;
she is the favorite of her mother,
perfect to the one who gave her birth.
Women see her and declare her fortunate;
queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises: