1 Woe is me! For I am like gatherings of produce in summer, like gleanings of a vineyard. There is no cluster to eat, no first-ripe fig that I crave.
2 The pious have perished from the land, there is none upright among mankind. All of them lie in wait for blood. A man hunts his brother with a net.
3 Both hands are diligent at doing evil. The official and the judge ask for a bribe. The distinguished man utters a desire of his soul. Thus they weave it together.
4 The best of them is like a prickly bush, the most upright like a thorn hedge. The day of your watchmen— of your visitation—is coming. Then their confusion will occur.
5 Do not trust in a friend. Do not trust in a close companion. Guard the openings of your mouth from her who lies on your breast.