My son, if you have put up security for your neighbor, if you have shaken hands in pledge for a stranger,
you have been trapped by what you said, ensnared by the words of your mouth.
So do this, my son, to free yourself, since you have fallen into your neighbor’s hands: Go—to the point of exhaustion—and give your neighbor no rest!
Allow no sleep to your eyes, no slumber to your eyelids.
Free yourself, like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, like a bird from the snare of the fowler.
Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!
It has no commander, no overseer or ruler,
yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.
How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—