What profit has a man from all his labor In which he toils under the sun?
One generation passes away, and another generation comes; But the earth abides forever.
The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, And hastens to the place where it arose.
The wind goes toward the south, And turns around to the north; The wind whirls about continually, And comes again on its circuit.
All the rivers run into the sea, Yet the sea is not full; To the place from which the rivers come, There they return again.
All things are full of labor; Man cannot express it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, Nor the ear filled with hearing.
That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, And there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which it may be said, "See, this is new"? It has already been in ancient times before us.
There is no remembrance of former things, Nor will there be any remembrance of things that are to come By those who will come after.