Bind them on your fingers; write them on the tablet of your heart.
Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,” and to insight, “You are my relative.”
They will keep you from the adulterous woman, from the wayward woman with her seductive words.
At the window of my house I looked down through the lattice.
I saw among the simple, I noticed among the young men, a youth who had no sense.
He was going down the street near her corner, walking along in the direction of her house
at twilight, as the day was fading, as the dark of night set in.
Then out came a woman to meet him, dressed like a prostitute and with crafty intent.
(She is unruly and defiant, her feet never stay at home;
now in the street, now in the squares, at every corner she lurks.)
She took hold of him and kissed him and with a brazen face she said: