6 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 keeper of the vineyards; Mine own vineyard have I not kept.
7 Tell me, thou whom my soul loveth, Where thou feedest thy flock, Where thou makest it to rest at noon; For why should I be as one veiled Beside the flocks of thy companions?
8 If thou know not, thou fairest among women, Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, And feed thy kids beside the shepherds' booths.
9 I compare thee, my love, To a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.
10 Thy cheeks are comely with bead-rows, Thy neck with ornamental chains.
11 We will make thee bead-rows of gold With studs of silver.
12 While the king is at his table, My spikenard sendeth forth its fragrance.