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?
If you don’t know, most beautiful among women, follow the tracks of the sheep.
Graze your young goats beside the shepherds’ tents.
I have compared you, my love, to a steed in Pharaoh’s chariots.