2 Perished hath the kind out of the land, And upright among men -- there are none, All of them for blood lie in wait, Each his brother they hunt 'with' a net.
3 On the evil 'are' both hands to do 'it' well, The prince is asking -- also the judge -- for recompence, And the great -- he is speaking the mischief of his soul, And they wrap it up.
4 Their best one 'is' as a brier, The upright one -- than a thorn-hedge, The day of thy watchmen -- Thy visitation -- hath come. Now is their perplexity.
5 Believe not in a friend, trust not in a leader, From her who is lying in thy bosom keep the openings of thy mouth.
6 For a son is dishonouring a father, A daughter hath stood against her mother, A daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, The enemies of each 'are' the men of his house.
Share this page