17 he may pile it up, but the righteous will wear it,and the innocent will divide the silver.
18 He builds his house like a moth’s,like a booth that a watchman makes.
19 He goes to bed rich, but will do so no more;he opens his eyes, and his wealth is gone.
20 Terrors overtake him like a flood;in the night a whirlwind carries him off.
21 The east wind lifts him up and he is gone;it sweeps him out of his place.
22 It hurls at him without pity;he flees from its power in headlong flight.
23 It claps its hands at himand hisses at him from its place.