“I will punish her for the days of the Baals
When she used to offer sacrifices to them
And adorn herself with her earrings and jewelry,
And follow her lovers, so that she forgot Me,” declares the Lord.
And behold, a woman comes to meet him,
Dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart.
She sits at the doorway of her house, On a seat by the high places of the city, Calling to those who pass by, Who are making their paths straight:
"Whoever is naive, let him turn in here," And to him who lacks understanding she says, read more.
"Stolen water is sweet; And bread eaten in secret is pleasant."
Now in that day Tyre will be forgotten for seventy years like the days of one king. At the end of seventy years it will happen to Tyre as in the song of the harlot: Take your harp, walk about the city, O forgotten harlot; Pluck the strings skillfully, sing many songs, That you may be remembered.
To deliver you from the strange woman,
From the adulteress who flatters with her words;
She is boisterous and rebellious, Her feet do not remain at home; She is now in the streets, now in the squares, And lurks by every corner. So she seizes him and kisses him And with a brazen face she says to him: read more.
"I was due to offer peace offerings; Today I have paid my vows. "Therefore I have come out to meet you, To seek your presence earnestly, and I have found you. "I have spread my couch with coverings, With colored linens of Egypt. "I have sprinkled my bed With myrrh, aloes and cinnamon. "Come, let us drink our fill of love until morning; Let us delight ourselves with caresses. "For my husband is not at home, He has gone on a long journey; He has taken a bag of money with him, At the full moon he will come home." With her many persuasions she entices him; With her flattering lips she seduces him. Suddenly he follows her As an ox goes to the slaughter, Or as one in fetters to the discipline of a fool, Until an arrow pierces through his liver; As a bird hastens to the snare, So he does not know that it will cost him his life. Now therefore, my sons, listen to me, And pay attention to the words of my mouth. Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, Do not stray into her paths. For many are the victims she has cast down, And numerous are all her slain. Her house is the way to Sheol, Descending to the chambers of death.
The woman of folly is boisterous, She is naive and knows nothing. She sits at the doorway of her house, On a seat by the high places of the city, Calling to those who pass by, Who are making their paths straight: read more.
"Whoever is naive, let him turn in here," And to him who lacks understanding she says, "Stolen water is sweet; And bread eaten in secret is pleasant." But he does not know that the dead are there, That her guests are in the depths of Sheol.