“Return to dust, you mortals!”
as brief as a few night hours.
They are like grass that springs up in the morning.
but by evening it is dry and withered.
we are overwhelmed by your fury.
our secret sins—and you see them all.
ending our years with a groan.
Some even live to eighty.
But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble;
soon they disappear, and we fly away.
Your wrath is as awesome as the fear you deserve.