The sun rises and the sun sets; panting, it hurries back to the place where it rises.
Gusting to the south, turning to the north, turning, turning, goes the wind, and the wind returns in its cycles.
All the streams flow to the sea, yet the sea is never full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again.
All things are wearisome, more than anyone can say. The eye is not satisfied by seeing or the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.
Can one say about anything, "Look, this is new"? It has already existed in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of those who came before; and of those who will come after there will also be no remembrance by those who follow them.