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My son, give attention to my wisdom. Incline your ear to my understanding,
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that you may guard discretion, and that your lips may preserve knowledge.
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For the lips of a foreign ishah drip honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil.
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But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword.
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Her feet go down to death. Her steps take hold of Sheol.
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Lest you should ponder the path of life, her ways wander, and you do not know it.
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And now, sons, hear me, and do not turn away from the words of my mouth.
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Remove your way far from her, and do not draw near to the entrance of her house,
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lest you give your honor to others and your years to the cruel,
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lest strangers be filled with your strength and your labor be in the house of a foreigner,
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and you groan at your end when your flesh and your body are consumed,
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and say: “How I hated discipline, and my heart despised correction.
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And I did not hear the voice of my teachers, nor incline my ear to those instructing me.
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I was almost in every evil in the midst of the assembly and congregation.”
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Drink waters from your own cistern and flowing waters from the midst of your own well.
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Should your springs be scattered outside, your streams of water in the streets?
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Let them be for you alone, and not for strangers with you.
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Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the ishah of your youth—
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a loving doe and a graceful gazelle. Let her breasts satisfy you at all times, and in her love wander continually.
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And why, my son, should you wander with a foreign ishah and embrace the bosom of a stranger?
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For the ways of an ish are before the eyes of Yahuah, and He weighs all his paths.
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His own crookednesses shall capture the wicked, and with the cords of his sin he shall be held.
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He shall die without discipline, and in the greatness of his foolishness he shall wander.