So I am allotted months of futility, and nights of misery are appointed to me.
I am weary from groaning; all night I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun, and have found them all to be futile, a pursuit of the wind.
Surely He has now exhausted me; You have devastated all my family.
You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing before You. Truly each man at his best exists
“How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me,