Thou shalt not see me, I am black; the sun searched me: my mother's sons were angry with me; they set me to watch the vineyards; my vineyard I watched not for me.

The flowers were seen in the earth; the time of pruning came, and the voice of the turtle-dove was heard in our land.

My dove in the refuges of the rock, in the biding of the steep mountain: cause me to see thy form, cause me to hear thy voice; for thy voice is sweet and thy form becoming.

I will arise now, and I will go round about in the city; in the streets, and in the broad places I will seek him whom my soul loved. I sought him, and I found him not

Where went thy beloved, O beautiful one among women? where turned away thy beloved, and we will seek him with thee.

I went down into the garden of nuts to look upon the greens of the valley, to see whether the vine was fruitful, whether the pomegranates blossomed.

Turn back, turn back, thou Shulamite; turn back, turn back, and we will look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As the stringed instrument of the camps.

We will rise early to the vineyards; we will see if the vine was fruitful, the vine blossoms opened, the pomegranates blossomed: there will I give my beloved to thee.