“Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.
They spring up like flowers and wither away; like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.
Do you fix your eye on them? Will you bring them before you for judgment?
Who can bring what is pure from the impure? No one!
A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.
So look away from him and let him alone, till he has put in his time like a hired laborer.
“At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail.
Its roots may grow old in the ground and its stump die in the soil,
yet at the scent of water it will bud and put forth shoots like a plant.
But a man dies and is laid low; he breathes his last and is no more.