16 Though he heaps up silver like dust,And piles up clothing like clay—
17 He may pile it up, but the just will wear it,And the innocent will divide the silver.
18 He builds his house like a moth,Like a booth which a watchman makes.
19 The rich man will lie down,But not be gathered up;He opens his eyes,And he is no more.
20 Terrors overtake him like a flood;A tempest steals him away in the night.
21 The east wind carries him away, and he is gone;It sweeps him out of his place.
22 It hurls against him and does not spare;He flees desperately from its power.