8 For he is sent into a net by his own feet, And on a snare he doth walk habitually.
9 Seize on the heel doth a gin, Prevail over him do the designing.
10 Hidden in the earth is his cord, And his trap on the path.
11 Round about terrified him have terrors, And they have scattered him -- at his feet.
12 Hungry is his sorrow, And calamity is ready at his side.
13 It consumeth the parts of his skin, Consume his parts doth death`s first-born.
14 Drawn from his tent is his confidence, And it causeth him to step to the king of terrors.
