NSB(i)
1 Too bad for me! For I am like the gathered summer fruit, as the grape gleanings of the vintage. There is no cluster to eat. I desire the first ripe fig.
2 The godly (loyal) (holy) man has perished from the earth. There is none upright among men! They all lie in wait for blood. Every man hunts his own brother with a net.
3 They diligently seek to do evil with their hands. The prince asks and the judge is ready for a bribe. The great man utters his own evil desire. They weave it together.
4 The best of them is as a brier. The most upright is worse than a thorn hedge! Your watchmen’s day has come. Your visitation has come. Now you will be perplexed.