Rhyming Proverbs: Chapter 31

Rhyming Proverbs: Chapter 31

The sayings of King Lemuel, inspired–
his mother taught him utt’rances most wise.

My son, now listen! Son of my womb, hear!
My son, hear this, the answer to my prayers!
Do not, on women, spending all your strength,
your vigor on those who would ruin great kings.
It’s not for kings, my Lemuel–it’s not
for kings to drink wine, rulers in their heart
to crave beer, lest they drink and would forget
what has been prev’iously declared as law,
and the oppressed, their rights, deprived of all.
Let beer be for those who are perishing,
and wine reserved for those who’re anguishing!
Let them drink that, forget their poverty
and no more they remember misery.
Speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves,
of all who’re destitute, their rights, you’d tell.
Speak up and fairly judge, defend the rights,
of those, the poor and needy, who’ve no might.

Epilogue: The Wife of Noble Character

A wife of noble character, who, her,
can find? Her worth, than rubies, is far more.
Full confidence her husband has in her,
of value, lacking nothing, he’ll confirm.
She brings him good, and never causes harm,
all of the days of her life. Works the loom,
selecting wool and flax, her eager hands.
She’s like the merchant ships from distant lands,
those bringing food. She gets up while it’s night
and for her fam’ly, food, what she provides,
her female servants, portions she divides.
A field, what she considers, it, she buys;
a vineyard, plants, from profits she’s derived.
She sets about her work most vig’rously;
for all her tasks, her arms ne’er lacking strength.
She sees the profits that her trading earns,
her lamp will never, in the night, out, burn.
In her right hand she holds the distaff’s shaft,
the spindle in her fingers, how she grasps.
Her open arms, to them, the poor’s demands,
and to the needy, she extends her hands.
When it might snow, no fear that she would know,
for them, her household, all of them are clothed
in scarlet. Making cov’rings for her bed;
fine linen, purple, in them she is clothed.
Her husband at the city gate, respect
he does receive, where he will take his seat
among the elders of the land. She makes
clothes, linen garments, selling in exchange.
With sashes, all the merchants, she supplies.
She’s clothed with both: strength, and she’s dignified;
she’s someone laughing at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom, and what’s on her tongue:
instruction faithful. Over their affairs,
she watches over those her household does
and doesn’t eat the bread of idleness.
Her children call her blessed, what they assert;
her husband also, and he praises her:

“There’s many women doing noble things,
but what you do, them all, surpassingly.”

Charm is deceptive, fleeting, beauty, too,
but, to be praised, the LORD, a woman, who
fears him. Her, honor, for the things she’s done,
those, with her hands, her works, let what they’ve brung
her, at the city gates: her praises sung.