The days of our years are threescore years and ten (seventy years)—or even, if by reason of strength, fourscore years (eighty years); yet is their pride [in additional years] only labor and sorrow, for it is soon gone, and we fly away.
·Our lifetime is [L The days of our years are] seventy years or, if we are strong, eighty years. But ·the years are full of [L their pride are] ·hard work [toil] and ·pain [trouble; Eccl. 1:2]. They pass quickly, and then we ·are gone [L fly away].
So don’t return us to mud, saying, “Back to where you came from!” Patience! You’ve got all the time in the world—whether a thousand years or a day, it’s all the same to you. Are we no more to you than a wispy dream, no more than a blade of grass That springs up gloriously with the rising sun and is cut down without a second thought? Your anger is far and away too much for us; we’re at the end of our rope. You keep track of all our sins; every misdeed since we were children is entered in your books. All we can remember is that frown on your face. Is that all we’re ever going to get? We live for seventy years or so (with luck we might make it to eighty), And what do we have to show for it? Trouble. Toil and trouble and a marker in the graveyard. Who can make sense of such rage, such anger against the very ones who fear you?
The yamim of shnoteinu (our years, life) are threescore shanah and ten; and if by reason of gevurot they are fourscore shanah, yet is their boast amal (trouble, toil) and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
the days of our years be those seventy years. Forsooth, if fourscore years/if eighty years be in mighty men; and (yet) the more time of them is travail and sorrow. For mildness came above; and we shall be chastised. (and the days of our years be those seventy years. For strong people, they be eighty years; yet most of that time is trouble, or labour, and sorrow. For life is short; and then we be gone.)