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My son, pay attention to my wisdom; Lend your ear to my understanding,
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That you may preserve discretion, And your lips may keep knowledge.
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For the lips of an immoral woman drip honey, And her mouth is smoother than oil;
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But in the end she is bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a two-edged sword.
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Her feet go down to death, Her steps lay hold of hell.
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Lest you ponder her path of life-- Her ways are unstable; You do not know them.
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Therefore hear me now, my children, And do not depart from the words of my mouth.
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Remove your way far from her, And do not go near the door of her house,
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Lest you give your honor to others, And your years to the cruel one;
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Lest aliens be filled with your wealth, And your labors go to the house of a foreigner;
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And you mourn at last, When your flesh and your body are consumed,
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And say: "How I have hated instruction, And my heart despised correction!
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I have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, Nor inclined my ear to those who instructed me!
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I was on the verge of total ruin, In the midst of the assembly and congregation."
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Drink water from your own cistern, And running water from your own well.
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Should your fountains be dispersed abroad, Streams of water in the streets?
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Let them be only your own, And not for strangers with you.
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Let your fountain be blessed, And rejoice with the wife of your youth.