Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Tell me, O you whom my heart loves, where do you pasture your sheep? Where do you rest your sheep during the midday heat? Tell me lest I wander around beside the flocks of your companions!

I have made a comparison of you, O my love, to a horse in Pharaoh's carriages.

Then shall thy cheeks and thy neck be made fair, and hanged with spangles and goodly jewels:

Cedar-trees are the pillars of our house; and our boards are made of fir-trees.

SHEI am The meadow-saffron of Sharon, The lily of the valleys.

King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.

He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.

Look at you! You are beautiful, my darling. Look at you! You are so beautiful. Your eyes behind your veil are doves, your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Your neck is like the tower of David made for a store-house of arms, in which a thousand breastplates are hanging, breastplates for fighting-men.

O that I might go to the mountain of Myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense, till the day break, and till the shadows be past away.

You have made my heart beat faster, my sister, my bride. You have made my heart beat faster with one glance of your eyes, with one strand of your necklace.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; to take my myrrh with my spice; my wax with my honey; my wine with my milk. Take meat, O friends; take wine, yes, be overcome with love.

I made the door open to my loved one; but my loved one had taken himself away, and was gone, my soul was feeble when his back was turned on me; I went after him, but I did not come near him; I said his name, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen on the walls!

Turn round thine eyes from before me, Because they have made me proud. Thy hair is as a row of the goats, That have shone from Gilead,

Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib.

Your neck is like a tower made of ivory. Your eyes are the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.

{How I wish that you were my little brother}, [who] nursed {upon my mother's breasts}! [If] {I met you outside}, I would kiss you, {and no one would despise me}!

if I took thee, and brought thee into my mother's house - that thou mightest teach me, and that I might give thee drink of spiced wine and of the sweet sap of my pomegranates.

Who is this, who comes up from the waste places, resting on her loved one? It was I who made you awake under the apple-tree, where your mother gave you birth; there she was in pain at your birth.