yet his food will turn sour in his stomach; it will become the venom of serpents within him.
He will spit out the riches he swallowed; God will make his stomach vomit them up.
He will suck the poison of serpents; the fangs of an adder will kill him.
He will not enjoy the streams, the rivers flowing with honey and cream.
What he toiled for he must give back uneaten; he will not enjoy the profit from his trading.
For he has oppressed the poor and left them destitute; he has seized houses he did not build.
“Surely he will have no respite from his craving; he cannot save himself by his treasure.
Nothing is left for him to devour; his prosperity will not endure.
In the midst of his plenty, distress will overtake him; the full force of misery will come upon him.
When he has filled his belly, God will vent his burning anger against him and rain down his blows on him.
Though he flees from an iron weapon, a bronze-tipped arrow pierces him.