A wicked man writhes in pain all his days; few years are stored up for the ruthless.
Dreadful sounds fill his ears; when he is at peace, a robber attacks him.
He doesn't believe he will return from darkness; he is destined for the sword.
He wanders about for food, [saying,] "Where is it?" He knows the day of darkness is at hand.
Trouble and distress terrify him, overwhelming him like a king prepared for battle.
For he has stretched out his hand against God and has arrogantly opposed the Almighty.
He rushes headlong at Him with his thick, studded shields.
Though his face is covered with fat and his waistline bulges with it,
he will dwell in ruined cities, in abandoned houses destined to become piles of rubble.
He will no longer be rich; his wealth will not endure. His possessions will not spread over the land.
He will not escape from the darkness; flames will wither his shoots, and he will depart by the breath of God's mouth.
Let him not put trust in worthless things, being led astray, for what he gets in exchange will prove worthless.
It will be accomplished before his time, and his branch will not flourish.
He will be like a vine that drops its unripe grapes and like an olive tree that sheds its blossoms.
For the company of the godless will be barren, and fire will consume the tents of those who offer bribes.
They conceive trouble and give birth to evil; their womb prepares deception.