Proverbs.
Chapter 7.
My son! Keep my sayings, || And lay up my commands with you. 
Keep my commands, and live, || And my law as the pupil of your eye. 
Bind them on your fingers, || Write them on the tablet of your heart. 
Say to wisdom, “You are my sister.” And cry to understanding, “Relative!” 
To preserve you from a strange woman, || From a stranger who has made her sayings smooth. 
For at a window of my house, || I have looked out through my casement, 
And I see among the simple ones, || I discern among the sons, || A young man lacking understanding, 
Passing on in the street, near her corner, || And the way to her house he steps, 
In the twilight—in the evening of day, || In the darkness of night and blackness. 
And behold, a woman to meet him—(A harlot’s dress, and watchful of heart, 
She is noisy, and stubborn, her feet do not rest in her house. 
Now in an out-place, now in broad places, || And she lies in wait near every corner)— 
And she laid hold on him and kissed him, || She has hardened her face and says to him, 
“Sacrifices of peace-offerings are by me, || Today I have completed my vows. 
Therefore I have come forth to meet you, || To earnestly seek your face, and I find you. 
I decked my bed with ornamental coverings, || Carved works—cotton of Egypt. 
I sprinkled my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. 
Come, we are filled with love until the morning, || We delight ourselves in loves. 
For the man is not in his house, || He has gone on a long journey. 
He has taken a bag of money in his hand, || At the day of the new moon he comes to his house.” 
She turns him aside with the abundance of her speech, || She forces him with the flattery of her lips. 
He is going after her straight away, he comes as an ox to the slaughter, || And as a chain to the discipline of a fool, 
Until an arrow splits his liver, || As a bird has hurried to a snare, || And has not known that it is for its life. 
And now, you sons, listen to me, || And give attention to sayings of my mouth. 
Do not let your heart turn to her ways, || Do not wander in her paths, 
For many are the wounded she caused to fall, || And mighty are all her slain ones. 
The ways of Sheol—her house, || Going down to inner chambers of death! 
