Remember your Creator when the doors to the street are closed, the sound of the mill is muffled, you are startled at the sound of a bird, ⌞and⌟ those who sing songs become quiet.
I’m 80 years old now. How can I tell what is pleasant and what is not? Can I taste what I eat or drink? Can I still hear the singing of men and women? Why should I now become a burden to you, Your Majesty?
The sound of harpists, musicians, flutists, and trumpeters will never be heard in it again. A skilled craftsman—regardless of the type of craft— will never be found in it again. The sound of a millstone will never be heard in it again.