A woeful and miserable matter, life is and it near comes to end
deathe angel soars around all, and over the world calls out: vanity! Perishableness! All on earth who breath bear, must fall to the ground before his blaine, and brief alone lives one, to carve upon the wide tomb: vanity! Perishableness! Vanity! Perishableness! When the same earth one embraces sees, the bones of common man and king, what tells less? What tells more? A marble stone or a mould of mould? Vanity! Perishableness!
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The strong one puts no solace in his power, and the wise not in wisdom, still what is happiness and joy, wordly goods and the price of man? Vanity! Perishableness!
Behold, the one whos world is cranped, and the one who sets flesh to arm, both shall they find room in the end, by the same motherns loin bosom:
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