Let not your eyes be turned on me, because I am dark, because I was looked on by the sun; my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vine-gardens; but my vine-garden I have not kept.

I got up to let my loved one in; and my hands were dropping with myrrh, and my fingers with liquid myrrh, on the lock of the door.

I went down into the garden of nuts to see the green plants of the valley, and to see if the vine was in bud, and the pomegranate-trees were in flower.

Oh that you were my brother, who took milk from my mother's breasts! When I came to you in the street, I would give you kisses; yes, I would not be looked down on.