Surely, in vain, is spread the net, in the sight of aught that hath wings!

When wisdom entereth thy heart, and, knowledge, to thy soul, is sweet,

When thou sittest down, thou shalt have no dread, yea thou shalt lie down, and sweet shall be thy sleep.

For, a son, became I to my father, tender and most precious in the sight of my mother.

So he taught me, and said to me - Let thy heart, lay hold of my words, Keep my commandments and live!

Exalt her, and she will set thee on high, she will bring thee to honour, when thou dust embrace her:

For, with sweet droppings, drip the lips of her that is a stranger, and, smoother than oil, is her mouth;

So she caught him, and kissed him, and, embolding her face, she said to him:

hath slaughtered her beasts, hath mingled her wine, hath even set in order her table;

So she sitteth at the entrance of her house, upon a seat, in the heights of the city;

Stolen waters, will be sweet, - and a secret meal, will be pleasant;

Hand to hand, the wicked man shall not be held innocent, but, the seed of the righteous, hath been delivered.

A desire fulfilled, is sweet to the soul, but it is, an abomination to the lawless, to depart from evil.

A comb of honey, are pleasant words, sweet to the taste and healing to the bone.

Sweet to a man, may be the bread of falsehood, but, afterward, shall his mouth be filled with gravel.

For sweet shall they be, when thou shalt keep them in thine inmost mind, they shall fit well together, upon thy lips.

As for thy morsel thou hast eaten, thou shalt vomit it, so shalt thou waste thy things so sweet.

My son, eat thou honey, because it is good, - and droppings from the comb because they are sweet to thy palate:

For better it be said to thee, Come up hither, - than that thou be put lower down before a noble, whom thine own eyes, have beheld.

As splendour of dress on a cold day - vinegar upon nitre, so is a singer with songs, unto a sad heart.

The surfeited soul, trampleth upon droppings from the comb, but, to the hungry soul, every bitter thing, is sweet.

Who hath ascended the heavens and then descended? Who hath gathered the wind into his two hands? Who hath wrapped up the waters in a mantle? Who hath set up all the ends of the earth? What is his name and what the name of his son, when thou knowest?

The vampire, hath two daughters, Give! Give! Three, there are will not be satisfied, four, have not said, Enough!

The conies, a people of, no power, yet set they, among the crags, their house;