Homo natus de muliere, brevi vivens tempore, repletur multis miseriis.

So frail man’s life, woman-born, so full of trouble,

Man born of a woman, living for a short time, is filled with many miseries.

Qui quasi flos egreditur et conteritur, et fugit velut umbra, et numquam in eodem statu permanet.

brief as a flower that blooms and withers, fugitive as a shadow, changing all the while;

Who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a shadow, and never continueth in the same state.

Et dignum ducis super hujuscemodi aperire oculos tuos, et adducere eum tecum in judicium?

and is he worth that watchfulness of thine, must thou needs call him to account?

And dost thou think it meet to open thy eyes upon such an one, and to bring him into judgment with thee?

Quis potest facere mundum de immundo conceptum semine? nonne tu qui solus es?

(Who can cleanse what is born of tainted stock, save thou alone, who alone hast being? )

Who can make him clean that is conceived of unclean seed? is it not thou who only art?

Breves dies hominis sunt: numerus mensium ejus apud te est: constituisti terminos ejus, qui præteriri non poterunt.

Brief, brief are man’s days; thou keepest count of the months left to him, thou dost appoint for him the bound he may not pass.

The days of man are short, and the number of his months is with thee: thou hast appointed his bounds which cannot be passed.

Recede paululum ab eo, ut quiescat, donec optata veniat, sicut mercenarii, dies ejus.

And wilt thou not leave him undisturbed for a little, till the welcome day comes when drudgery is at an end?

Depart a little from him, that he may rest, until his wished for day come, as that of the hireling.

Lignum habet spem: si præcisum fuerit, rursum virescit, et rami ejus pullulant.

Were he but as the trees are! A tree has hope to live by: pollarded, it still grows green, and fresh branches spring from it.

A tree hath hope: if it be cut, it groweth green again, and the boughs thereof sprout.

Si senuerit in terra radix ejus, et in pulvere emortuus fuerit truncus illius,

Root and stock old and withered, down in the dusty earth,

If its root be old in the earth, and its stock be dead in the dust:

ad odorem aquæ germinabit, et faciet comam, quasi cum primum plantatum est.

but at the breath of water it revives, and the leaves come, as they came when it first was planted.

At the scent of water, it shall spring, and bring forth leaves, as when it was first planted.

Homo vero cum mortuus fuerit, et nudatus, atque consumptus, ubi, quæso, est?

For us mortal men, death; a stripping, and a breathing out of the soul, and all is over.

But man when he shall be dead, and stripped and consumed, I pray you where is he?

Quomodo si recedant aquæ de mari, et fluvius vacuefactus arescat:

Where is the sea, when its waters dry up, the river when its bed is empty?

As if the waters should depart out of the sea, and an emptied river should be dried up:

sic homo, cum dormierit, non resurget: donec atteratur cælum, non evigilabit, nec consurget de somno suo.

So man falls asleep, never to rise again while heaven endures; from that sleep there is no waking, there is no rousing him.

So man when he is fallen asleep shall not rise again; till the heavens be broken. he shall not awake, nor rise up out of his sleep.

Quis mihi hoc tribuat, ut in inferno protegas me, et abscondas me donec pertranseat furor tuus, et constituas mihi tempus in quo recorderis mei?

Ah, if the grave were only a place of shelter, where thou wouldst hide me away until thy anger was spent, with a time appointed when thou wouldst bethink thyself of me again!

Who will grant me this, that thou mayst protect me in hell, and hide me till thy wrath pass, and appoint me a time when thou wilt remember me?

Putasne mortuus homo rursum vivat? cunctis diebus quibus nunc milito, expecto donec veniat immutatio mea.

Ah, if the dead might live again! Then I could wait willingly enough, all the time of my campaigning, till I were relieved at my post;

Shall man that is dead, thinkest thou, live again? all the days in which I am now in warfare, I expect until my change come.

Vocabis me, et ego respondebo tibi: operi manuum tuarum porriges dexteram.

thou wouldst summon me at last, and I would answer thy summons, thy creature, safe in thy loving hand!

Thou shalt call me, and I will answer thee: to the work of thy hands thou shalt reach out thy right hand.

Tu quidem gressus meos dinumerasti: sed parce peccatis meis.

So jealous a record thou keepest of every step I take, and hast thou never a blind eye for my faults?

Thou indeed hast numbered my steps, but spare my sins.

Signasti quasi in sacculo delicta mea, sed curasti iniquitatem meam.

Instead, must thou seal up every wrong-doing of mine, as in a casket; embalm the memory of my transgressions?

Thou hast sealed up my offences as it were in a bag, but hast cured my iniquity.

Mons cadens defluit, et saxum transfertur de loco suo:

Nay there is no help for it; mountain-side or cliff that begins to crumble scales away and vanishes at last,

A mountain falling cometh to nought, and a rock is removed out of its place.

lapides excavant aquæ, et alluvione paulatim terra consumitur: et hominem ergo similiter perdes.

water hollows into the hard rock, and floods wear away the firm ground at last, and thou hast made no less inevitable man’s doom.

Waters wear away the stones, and with inundation the ground by little and little is washed away: so in like manner thou shalt destroy man.

Roborasti eum paululum, ut in perpetuum transiret: immutabis faciem ejus, et emittes eum.

His brief mastery thou takest away for ever; the lively hue changes, and he is gone.

Thou hast strengthened him for a little while, that he may pass away for ever: thou shalt change his face, and shalt send him away.

Sive nobiles fuerint filii ejus, sive ignobiles, non intelliget.

His children rise to honour, sink to shame, and he none the wiser;

Whether his children come to honour or dishonour, he shall not understand.

Attamen caro ejus, dum vivet, dolebit, et anima illius super semetipso lugebit.

nothing man feels save the pains that rack him in life, the griefs that fret his soul.

But yet his flesh, while he shall live, shall have pain, and his soul shall mourn over him.