My days are like a shadow that declines, and I am withered like grass.
I am gone like the shadow when it declines. I am tossed up and down as the locust.
He comes forth like a flower, and is cut down. He too flees as a shadow, and does not continue.
Man is like vanity. His days are as a shadow that passes away.
Because all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as a flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower of it falls away,
men who know not of the morrow. For what is your life? For it will be a vapor that appears for a little while, and then also vanishes away--
but the rich in his lowliness, because as a flower of grass he will pass away.
For who knows what is good for man in life, all the days of his vain life which he spends as a shadow? For who can tell a man what shall be after him under the sun?
He has broken me down on every side, and I am gone. And he has plucked up my hope like a tree.
I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of his wrath.