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Words of the Spokesman,✻ king David’s son, that reigned once at Jerusalem.
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A shadow’s shadow, he tells us, a shadow’s shadow; a world of shadows!
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How is man the better for all this toiling of his, here under the sun?
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Age succeeds age, and the world goes on unaltered.
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Sun may rise and sun may set, but ever it goes back and is reborn.
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Round to the south it moves, round to the north it turns; the wind, too, though it makes the round of the world, goes back to the beginning of its round at last.
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All the rivers flow into the sea, yet never the sea grows full; back to their springs they find their way, and must be flowing still.
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Weariness, all weariness; who shall tell the tale? Eye looks on unsatisfied; ear listens, ill content.
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Ever that shall be that ever has been, that which has happened once shall happen again;
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there can be nothing new, here under the sun. Never man calls a thing new, but it is something already known to the ages that went before us;
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only we have no record of older days. So, believe me, the fame of to-morrow’s doings will be forgotten by the men of a later time.
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I was a king in my day, I, the Spokesman; Israel my realm, Jerusalem my capital.
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And it was my resolve to search deep and find out the meaning of all that men do, here under the sun; all that curse of busy toil which God has given to the sons of Adam for their task.
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All that men do beneath the sun I marked, and found it was but frustration and lost labour, all of it;
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there was no curing men’s cross-grained nature, no reckoning up their follies.
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I at least (so I flattered myself) have risen above the rest; a king so wise never reigned at Jerusalem;✻ here is a mind has reflected much, and much learned.
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And therewith I applied my mind to a new study; what meant wisdom and learning, what meant ignorance and folly? And I found that this too was labour lost;
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much wisdom, much woe; who adds to learning, adds to the load we bear.
