4 I incline to a simile mine ear, I open with a harp my riddle:
5 Why do I fear in days of evil? The iniquity of my supplanters doth compass me.
6 Those trusting on their wealth, And in the multitude of their riches, Do shew themselves foolish.
7 A brother doth no one at all ransom, He doth not give to God his atonement.
8 And precious [is] the redemption of their soul, And it hath ceased -- to the age.
9 And still he liveth for ever, He seeth not the pit.
10 For he seeth wise men die, Together the foolish and brutish perish, And have left to others their wealth.
