18 He builds his house like a moth,like a shack that a watchman makes.
19 He may go to bed rich, but he’ll never be rich again.When he opens his eyes, nothing will be left.
20 Terrors overtake him like a flood.A windstorm snatches him away at night.
21 The east wind carries him away, and he’s gone.It sweeps him from his place.
22 It hurls itself at him without mercy.He flees from its power.
23 It claps its hands over him.It whistles at him from his own place.