For a mortal born of a woman is short-lived, and full of wrath.

Or he falls like a flower that has bloomed, and he departs like a shadow, and cannot continue.

I am pained in my bowels, my bowels, and the sensitive powers of my heart. My soul is in great commotion, my heart is torn. I will not be silent, for my soul has heard the sound of a trumpet, the cry of war, and of distress: it calls on destruction.