My son, keep my words. Lay up my mitzvot within you.
Keep my mitzvot and live; Guard my teaching as the apple of your eye.
Bind them on your fingers. Write them on the tablet of your heart.
Tell wisdom, "You are my sister." Call understanding your relative,
That they may keep you from the strange woman, From the foreigner who flatters with her words.
For at the window of my house, I looked forth through my lattice.
I saw among the simple ones. I discerned among the youths a young man void of understanding,
Passing through the street near her corner, He went the way to her house,
In the twilight, in the evening of the day, In the middle of the night and in the darkness.
Behold, there a woman met him with the attire of a prostitute, And with crafty intent.
She is loud and defiant. Her feet don't stay in her house.