My son, pay attention to my wisdom. Bend your ear to what I know,
so you might remain discreet, and your lips might guard knowledge.
The lips of a mysterious woman drip honey, and her tongue is smoother than oil,
but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword.
Her feet go down to death; her steps lead to the grave.
She doesn't stay on the way of life. Her paths wander, but she doesn't know it.
Now children, listen to me, and don't deviate from the words of my mouth.
Stay on a path that is far from her; don't approach the entrance to her house.
Otherwise, you will give your strength to others, your years to a cruel person.
Otherwise, strangers will sap your strength, and your hard work will end up in a foreigner's house.
You will groan at the end when your body and flesh are exhausted,
and you say, "How I hated instruction! How my heart despised correction!
I didn't listen to the voice of my instructor. I didn't obey my teacher.
I'm on the brink of utter ruin in the assembled community."
Drink water from your own cistern, gushing water from your own well.
Should your fountains flood outside, streams of water in the public squares?
They are yours alone, not for you as well as strangers.
May your spring be blessed. Rejoice in the wife of your youth.
She is a lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts intoxicate you all the time; always be drunk on her love.
Why, my son, should you lose your senses with a mysterious woman and embrace the breasts of a foreign female?
The LORD's eyes watch over every person's path, observing all their ways.
The wicked will be caught by their own evil acts, grabbed by the ropes of their own sin.
Those without instruction will die, misled by their own stupidity.