Therefore I praised the dead who were already dead, More than the living who are still alive.
Therefore I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me, for all is vanity and grasping for the wind.
A good name is better than precious ointment, And the day of death than the day of one’s birth;
Weep not for the dead, nor bemoan him; Weep bitterly for him who goes away, For he shall return no more, Nor see his native country.