Sin may seem a sultry soother,
her speech sounding ever smoother;
how easy it seems to seduce her,
but do not fall for her maneuvers,
for who among you’d be the looser?
Her suitors are sooner deserted
in a sewer, stupored and perverted.
I will affirm she is no good;
she ends as bitter as wormwood,
sharp as any two-edged sword,
dredged from the depths of death’s own door.
First, she’ll twist her misericorde,
then return to thrust some more!
Her feet patter down to death,
the path to hell doth land her step;
she ponders not the path of life,
and wanders onward through the night.
She doesn’t know where her strides lead;
she herself weaves on deceived.
Keep your way far from her frame,
ne’er darken it to see that dame,
lest you give away your honor,
lest your wealth flee to strange men
(for every time you call upon her,
you arrange your estrangement),
lest your arrears go to the merciless,
and your years unto the scurrilous,
lest strangers feed upon your strength,
your labors go to foreign men,
your life ebbs away its length,
and you groan, ravaged and spent.
Tell me, son, why be enraptured
by the bosom of a blackbird?
Sure, that popsy’s hotsy-totsy,
but beware, her ways are foxy.
Alas, this is the liver-vein –
making flesh a deity;
try diligently to refrain
from pure idolatry.
Forgo forbidden women, son,
or be forever on the run.
The strumpet’s seductive plays
are but a destructive blaze
that consume you without measure –
and you paid for such a pleasure!
Have you no awareness, then,
of how you ensnare us, men?
What have all your merits meant?
Spare us the embarrassment!
Your ways are before God’s eyes;
He will survey and analyze,
and if your days lead to demise,
man, it will eat you alive.
The iniquities of the perverted
ensnare him and see him deserted.
The cords of sin will capture him;
he’ll die for lack of discipline.
His folly led him e’er astray,
for all he did was disobey.