7 Woe is me!
For I am like those who gather summer fruits,
Like those who aglean vintage grapes;
There is no cluster to eat
Of the first-ripe fruit which bmy soul desires.
And there is no one upright among men.
They all lie in wait for blood;
dEvery man hunts his brother with a net.
The prince asks for gifts,
The judge seeks a ebribe,
And the great man utters his evil desire;
So they scheme together.
4 The best of them is flike a brier;
The most upright is sharper than a thorn hedge;
The day of your watchman and your punishment comes;
Now shall be their perplexity.