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Dark am I, and lovely, daughters of Jerusalem—
        like the black tents of the Kedar nomads,
        like the curtains of Solomon’s palace.
Don’t stare at me because I’m darkened
        by the sun’s gaze.
My own brothers were angry with me.
        They made me a caretaker of the vineyards—
        but I couldn’t care for my own vineyard.

Tell me, you whom I love with all my heart—
        where do you pasture your flock,
        where do you rest them at noon?—
            so I don’t wander around with the flocks of your companions.

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