Don't stare at me because I'm dark; the sun has tanned me. My mother's sons were angry with me. They made me the caretaker of the vineyards, but I didn't take care of my own vineyard.

Tell me, you whom I love, where do you graze your flock? Where do you make your flock lie down at noon? Why should I be considered a veiled woman beside the flocks of your companions?

If you don't know, most beautiful of women, go out after the flock and graze your young goats beside the shepherd's tents.

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. In his shade I take delight and sit down, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

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.

My beloved is dazzling, with a dark and healthy complexion, outstanding among ten thousand.

My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to graze his flock in the gardens and gather lilies.

Turn your eyes from me, for they excite me. Your hair is like a flock of goats coming down from Mt. Gilead.

Who is this who appears like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?

I went down to the walnut orchard, to look at the green sprouts in the valley, to see whether the vine had budded, whether the pomegranates had blossomed.

May your mouth be like good wine. May it go down smoothly to my beloved, gliding gently over the lips of the sleeping ones.