at the head of the noisy streets she calls, in the entrances of the gates in the city she utters her words:

Keep yourself far from her, and do not go near the door of her house,

beside the gates opening into the city, at the entrance of the doorways she cries out:

So she sits at the door of her house, on a seat at the highest point of the city,

The one who loves a quarrel loves transgression; whoever builds his gate high seeks destruction.

Blessed is the one who listens to me, watching at my doors day by day, waiting beside my doorway.