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I am dark, but lovely,
    you daughters of Jerusalem,
    like Kedar’s tents,
    like Solomon’s curtains.
Don’t stare at me because I am dark,
    because the sun has scorched me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me.
    They made me keeper of the vineyards.
    I haven’t kept my own vineyard.
Tell me, you whom my soul loves,
    where you graze your flock,
    where you rest them at noon;
    for why should I be as one who is veiled
    beside the flocks of your companions?

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