I am black, but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.

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.

Tell me, You whom my soul loves, where do You feed, where do You lie down at noon? For why should I be as one who is veiled beside the flocks of Your companions?

I am the rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

Feed me with raisin cakes, comfort me with apples, for I am sick with love.

My Beloved is mine, and I am His; He feeds among the lilies.

By night on my bed I sought Him whom my soul loved; I sought Him, but I did not find Him.

I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the broad ways; I will seek Him whom my soul loves. I sought Him, but I did not find Him.

The watchmen going about the city found me. I said, Have you seen Him whom my soul loves?

But a little while after I passed from them, I found Him whom my soul loves. I held Him and would not let Him go, until I had brought Him into my mother's house, and into the room of her who conceived me.

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

I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine; He feeds among the lilies.

I am my Beloved's, and His desire is toward me.