6 Go to the ant, O slothful one, || See her ways and be wise; 7 Which has no captain, overseer, and ruler, 8 She prepares her bread in summer, || She has gathered her food in harvest. 9 Until when, O slothful one, do you lie? When do you arise from your sleep? 10 A little sleep, a little slumber, || A little clasping of the hands to rest, 11 And your poverty has come as a traveler, || And your want as an armed man.