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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.

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I am dark but beautiful,
    O women of Jerusalem—
dark as the tents of Kedar,
    dark as the curtains of Solomon’s tents.
Don’t stare at me because I am dark—
    the sun has darkened my skin.
My brothers were angry with me;
    they forced me to care for their vineyards,
    so I couldn’t care for myself—my own vineyard.

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