A wicked man writhes in pain all his days; only a few years are reserved for the ruthless. Sounds of terror fill his ears; in his prosperity the destroyer attacks him. He despairs of his return from darkness; he is marked for the sword. He wanders about as food for vultures; he knows the day of darkness is at hand. Distress and anguish terrify him, overwhelming him like a king poised to attack.
Indeed, the lamp of the wicked is extinguished; the flame of his fire does not glow. The light in his tent grows dark, and the lamp beside him goes out. His vigorous stride is shortened, and his own schemes trip him up. For his own feet lead him into a net, and he wanders into its mesh. A trap seizes his heel; a snare grips him. A noose is hidden in the ground, and a trap lies in his path. Terrors frighten him on every side and harass his every step. His strength is depleted, and calamity is ready at his side. It devours patches of his skin; the firstborn of death devours his limbs. He is torn from the shelter of his tent and is marched off to the king of terrors.
The youthful vigor that fills his bones will lie down with him in the dust. Though evil is sweet in his mouth and he conceals it under his tongue, though he cannot bear to let it go and keeps it in his mouth, yet in his stomach his food sours into the venom of cobras within him. He swallows wealth but vomits it out; God will force it from his stomach. He will suck the poison of cobras; the fangs of a viper will kill him. He will not enjoy the streams, the rivers flowing with honey and cream. He must return the fruit of his labor without consuming it; he cannot enjoy the profits of his trading. For he has oppressed and forsaken the poor; he has seized houses he did not build. Because his appetite is never satisfied, he cannot escape with his treasure. Nothing is left for him to consume; thus his prosperity will not endure. In the midst of his plenty, he will be distressed; the full force of misery will come upon him. When he has filled his stomach, God will vent His fury upon him, raining it down on him as he eats. Though he flees from an iron weapon, a bronze-tipped arrow will pierce him. It is drawn out of his back, the gleaming point from his liver. Terrors come over him. Total darkness is reserved for his treasures. A fire unfanned will consume him and devour what is left in his tent. The heavens will expose his iniquity, and the earth will rise up against him. The possessions of his house will be removed, flowing away on the day of God’s wrath. This is the wicked man’s portion from God, the inheritance God has appointed him.”
Surely You set them on slick ground; You cast them down into ruin. How suddenly they are laid waste, completely swept away by terrors! Like one waking from a dream, so You, O Lord, awaken and despise their form.
For they cannot sleep unless they do evil; they are deprived of slumber until they make someone fall. For they eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.
These men are hidden reefs in your love feasts, shamelessly feasting with you but shepherding only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried along by the wind; fruitless trees in autumn, twice dead after being uprooted.