And I do see among the simple ones, I discern among the sons, A young man lacking understanding,

The wrath of a king is a growl as of a young lion, And as dew on the herb his good-will.

The fear of a king is a growl as of a young lion, He who is causing him to be wroth is wronging his soul.

The beauty of young men is their strength, And the honour of old men is grey hairs.

The wicked have fled and there is no pursuer. And the righteous as a young lion is confident.

An eye that mocketh at a father, And despiseth to obey a mother, Dig it out do ravens of the valley, And eat it do young eagles.