Listen to me, you rich men, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming upon you!
As the sun rises, and the hot wind blows, 'the grass withers, its flower fades,' and all its beauty is gone. So is it with the rich man. In the midst of his pursuits he will come to an untimely end.
But you--you insult the poor man! Is not it the rich who oppress you? Is not it they who drag you into law-courts?
Listen to me, you who say 'To-day or to-morrow we will go to such and such a town, spend a year there, and trade, and make money,'
Grieve, mourn, and lament! Let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your happiness to gloom!