“All people are like grass,
    and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall,

⁵ You have made my days^(A) a mere handbreadth;
    the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,^(B)
    even those who seem secure.^[a]

³ For my days vanish like smoke;^(A)
    my bones^(B) burn like glowing embers.

⁶ “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,^(A)
    and they come to an end without hope.^(B)
7 Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath;^(C)
    my eyes will never see happiness again.^(D)

14 “Mortals, born of woman,^(A)
    are of few days^(B) and full of trouble.^(C)
2 They spring up like flowers^(D) and wither away;^(E)
    like fleeting shadows,^(F) they do not endure.^(G)

²⁵ “My days are swifter than a runner;^(A)
    they fly away without a glimpse of joy.^(B)
26 They skim past^(C) like boats of papyrus,^(D)
    like eagles swooping down on their prey.^(E)