Song of Songs 1:6
Do not stare at me because I am dark, because the sun has darkened me. My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me take care of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept.
Do not stare at me because I am dark, because the sun has darkened me. My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me take care of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept.
Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
Do not gaze at me because I am dark, because the sun has looked upon me. My mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept.
Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
but yet am I faire & welfauoured withal. Maruell not at me yt I am so black, & why? ye Sonne hath shyned vpo me. For whan my mothers childre had euell wil at me, they made me ye keper of the vynyarde. Thus was I fayne to kepe a vynyarde, which was not myne owne.
Regard ye me not because I am blacke: for the sunne hath looked vpon mee. The sonnes of my mother were angry against mee: they made me the keeper of ye vines: but I kept not mine owne vine.
Marueyle not at me that I am so blacke, for why? the sunne hath shined vpon me: my mothers chyldren haue euyll wyll at me, they made me the keper of the vineyardes, but mine owne vineyarde haue I not kept.
Look not upon me, because I [am] black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; [but] mine own vineyard have I not kept.
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.
Fear me not, because I `am' very dark, Because the sun hath scorched me, The sons of my mother were angry with me, They made me keeper of the vineyards, My vineyard -- my own -- I have not kept.
Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother's sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; `But' mine own vineyard have I not kept.
Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother's sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; [But] mine own vineyard have I not kept.
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.
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.
Do not stare at me because I am dark, for the sun has burned my skin. My brothers were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards. Alas, my own vineyard I could not keep!
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4Take me away with you—let us run! The king has brought me into his chambers. We will rejoice and be glad in you; we will celebrate your love more than wine. Rightly do they love you.
5I am dark but lovely, daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.
7Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you graze your flock, where you rest your sheep at midday. Why should I be like a veiled woman beside the flocks of your companions?
8If you do not know, most beautiful of women, follow the tracks of the sheep and graze your young goats near the shepherds' tents.
9I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.
30My skin grows black and peels off, and my bones burn with fever.
31My harp is turned to mourning and my flute to the sound of weeping.
7Her nobles were purer than snow, whiter than milk; their bodies were more ruddy than coral, their appearance like sapphires.
8Now their appearance is darker than soot; they are not recognized in the streets. Their skin clings to their bones; it has become as dry as wood.
5Turn your eyes away from me, for they overwhelm me. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Gilead.
10Our skin is hot as an oven, burned from the raging heat of famine.
6I opened to my beloved, but he had withdrawn and was gone. My soul failed when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he did not answer.
7The watchmen who go about the city found me; they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
8I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick.
9What makes your beloved better than another beloved, most beautiful among women? What makes your beloved better than another, that you should beg us so passionately?
10My beloved is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand.
11His head is purest gold; his locks are wavy, black as a raven.
1Let me sing now for my beloved a song of my beloved about his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a fertile hill.
21Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me.
10Who is this who looks down like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awe-inspiring as an army with banners?
11I went down to the walnut grove to see the blossoms of the valley, to see whether the vines had budded, whether the pomegranates were in bloom.
12Before I realized it, my desire set me among the chariots of my noble people.
16Streams dark with ice, where the snow conceals itself,
1Where has your beloved gone, O most beautiful among women? Where has your beloved turned, that we may seek him with you?
6Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense.
12Come, my beloved, let us go out into the fields; let us lodge in the villages.
14My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms from the vineyards of En Gedi.
15Behold, you are beautiful, my love! Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are like doves.
1Oh, that you were like a brother to me, one who nursed at my mother's breasts! If I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would despise me.
16My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death.
10Your mouth is like the finest wine, flowing smoothly for my beloved, gliding over the lips of those who are asleep.
7It has laid waste my vine and ruined my fig tree. It has stripped off their bark and thrown it away; their branches are made white.
3I have taken off my tunic; how can I put it back on? I have washed my feet; how can I dirty them again?
3The watchmen who patrol the city found me. "Have you seen the one my soul loves?"
4Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go until I had brought him to my mother’s house, to the room of the one who conceived me.
12My vineyard, which belongs to me, is before me. The thousand pieces of silver are for you, Solomon, and two hundred are for those who tend its fruit.
13You who dwell in the gardens, your companions are listening to your voice; let me hear it.
7My eyes have grown dim from grief, and all my limbs are like a shadow.
4What more could I have done for my vineyard than I have already done? Why, when I expected it to produce good grapes, did it yield only wild ones?
1Woe is me, for I am like those gathering summer fruit, like those gleaning after the harvest; there is no cluster to eat, no early fig that my soul desires.
12"Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow, which was brought upon me, which the LORD inflicted on the day of his fierce anger.
7I am worn out from my groaning; all night long I drench my bed with tears and flood my couch with weeping.
2Why are your clothes red, and your garments like those of someone who treads in a winepress?
3Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
8My inheritance has become to me like a lion in the forest; she roars against me, therefore I hate her.
10I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers. Thus I have become in his eyes like one who brings peace.
8For I have endured insult for your sake, and shame has covered my face.
1I have entered my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spices. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends, and drink; be intoxicated with love.
12Destruction is in its midst; oppression and deceit do not leave its streets.
5Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved? Under the apple tree I awakened you. There your mother was in labor with you; there she who bore you was in labor.