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 keeper of the vineyards; Mine own vineyard have I not kept.

My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among the lilies,

I slept, but my heart was awake. The voice of my beloved! he knocketh: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, mine undefiled; For my head is filled with dew, My locks with the drops of the night.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: He feedeth his flock among the lilies.

My dove, mine undefiled, is but one; She is the only one of her mother, She is the choice one of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; The queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: The thousand silver-pieces be to thee, Solomon; And to the keepers of its fruit, two hundred.