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.

Thy cheeks were beautiful with with rows, thy neck with strings of pearls.

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

How beautiful were thy breasts, my sister, O bride! how good were thy breasts above wine, and the odor of thine ointments above all spices.

My beloved sent his hand from the hole, and my bowels were disquieted for him.

How beautiful were thy steps with shoes, O daughter of a noble! the circuits of thy thighs a necklace, the work of the hands of an artist.