You turn people back to dust,
    saying, ‘Return to dust, you mortals.’
A thousand years in your sight
    are like a day that has just gone by,
    or like a watch in the night.
Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death –
    they are like the new grass of the morning:
In the morning it springs up new,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.

Read full chapter