O vanity of vanities,

That I travail below the unrelenting sun and profit not

For such a generation sows, another generation reaps

To whom the sow'rs, their monuments and treasures they must yield

They too shall pass, their ivory towers and silver idols left to rot

And yet the earth abides beyond the setting sun

Of which the day will rise and nightfall overcome the land again;

The winds move south, turn north, as on a pivot, yet returning to their course

And every river spills intó voracious seas that never have their fill

Then whence they came, to there they shall revert

All things will pour you out and leave you parched as valley's bones,

The cost of every burden far beyond the words of any man

No sight can sate the eye, no sound can still the ear

What we have done will surely come to capture us again;

What is shall always be what was before undér the sun

The new is but the image of the old,

From ancient times and to the present hour their legacies pervade the soul

No living minds a truthful remnant of the former things contain,

Our sepulchers shall maim their recollections; blackened relics, still remains compose our fate.