As for man, his days are like grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
For, “ All flesh is like grass, And all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, And the flower falls off,
and the rich man is to glory in his humiliation, because like flowering grass he will pass away.
“ Man, who is born of woman, Is short-lived and full of turmoil.
You have swept them away like a flood, they fall asleep; In the morning they are like grass which sprouts anew.
Woe to the proud crown of the drunkards of Ephraim, And to the fading flower of its glorious beauty, Which is at the head of the fertile valley Of those who are overcome with wine!
And the fading flower of its glorious beauty, Which is at the head of the fertile valley, Will be like the first-ripe fig prior to summer, Which one sees, And as soon as it is in his hand, He swallows it.
A voice says, “Call out.” Then he answered, “What shall I call out?” All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field.
“I, even I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you are afraid of man who dies And of the son of man who is made like grass,
He rebukes the sea and makes it dry; He dries up all the rivers. Bashan and Carmel wither; The blossoms of Lebanon wither.