Round and round and round it goes; what it means there’s no one knows.
Wind blows north and then blows south, Streams run sea-ward to their mouths.
All seems vain, just so much noise. What’s the worth of ceaseless toil?
There is nothing new to see, least of all what’s on T. V.
What has been is what will be. Death leads to obscurity.
Like the sea, death never fills. Might as well live as you will.
Image: Chinese boekverkoper, 19th Century
Source: Ecclesiastes 1:1-11
Text: David Alexander, 2022 CC BY-SA NC 4.0
Tune: 真美歌 Ji Le Yin, Public Domain
Audio: www.smallchurchmusic.com Used by Permission