| 
Blowing toward the south, Then turning toward the north, The wind continues swirling along; And on its circular courses the wind returns.
All the rivers flow into the sea, Yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow, There they flow again.
All things are wearisome; Man is not able to tell it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, Nor is the ear filled with hearing.
That which has been is that which will be, And that which has been done is that which will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which one might say, "See this, it is new"? Already it has existed for ages Which were before us.
			 | 
The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again.
All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing.
What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.
			 |