Wisdom shouts in the street;
    in the public square she raises her voice.
Above the noisy crowd, she calls out.
    At the entrances of the city gates, she has her say:
“How long will you clueless people love your naïveté,
    mockers hold their mocking dear,
    and fools hate knowledge?
You should respond when I correct you.
    Look, I’ll pour out my spirit on you.
    I’ll reveal my words to you.
I invited you, but you rejected me;
    I stretched out my hand to you,
    but you paid no attention.
You ignored all my advice,
    and you didn’t want me to correct you.
So I’ll laugh at your disaster;
    I’ll make fun of you when dread comes over you,
        when terror hits you like a hurricane,
        and your disaster comes in like a tornado,
        when distress and oppression overcome you.
Then they will call me, but I won’t answer;
    they will seek me, but won’t find me
        because they hated knowledge
        and didn’t choose the fear of the Lord.
They didn’t want my advice;
    they rejected all my corrections.
They will eat from the fruit of their way,
   and they’ll be full of their own schemes.
The immature will die because they turn away;
    smugness will destroy fools.
Those who obey me will dwell securely,
    untroubled by the dread of harm.”