Rhyming Ecclesiastes: Chapter 1

Rhyming Ecclesiastes: Chapter 1

Everything Is Meaningless

The words of him, the Teacher, David’s son,
of him who’s king o’er all Jerusalem:

“All meaningless! All meaningless!”, he says,
the Teacher. “Meaningless, it’s utterly!
“It’s everything,” he says, “is meaningless.”
What gain do people, from their labors, see?
Their constant toil, the sun they’re underneath.
The generations old, and new, give birth,
but it remains forever, here, the earth.
The sun will rise, horizon, dips below,
and hurries back again to where it rose.
It’s to the south, the place from where it blows,
the wind, and then it turns back to the north;
around and ‘round, directions that it goes,
and e’er returning on its willful course.
All streams are flowing down into the sea,
the sea, its emptiness is ne’er relieved.
Back to the place the streams come from, again,
there they return. All things are wearisome,
more than a single person can express.
Of seeing, does the eye ne’er have enough,
nor does the ear, it’s hearing ne’er filled up.
What has been once will be the case once more,
what’s done before, again, will be performed;
there is no new thing ‘neath the sun’s bright rays.
Is there not anything that one could say,
“Look! This is something new”? No, it was here
already, long ago, was here before.
No one remembers generations past,
and even those who’ve yet to come to pass
won’t be remembered by those foll’wing them.

Wisdom Is Meaningless

Was king o’er Is’rael in Jerusalem,
the Teacher, I, and I applied my mind
to study and explore, by wisdom find
all that beneath the heavens might be done.
God’s laid a heavy burden on mankind!
I have seen all the things that ‘neath the sun
are done; they’re meaningless, yes, all of them,
a fruitless chasing after blowing wind.
What’s crooked can’t be straightened out again;
that lacking can’t, enumerated, be.

I said unto myself, “Look, I’ve increased
in wisdom more than anyone who’s ruled
Jerusalem before; experienced,
I have much, both of wisdom, knowledge, too.”
Then I applied myself to wisdom’s goal,
to understanding, madness, folly, know,
but I have learned that this, too, is a ruse,
a chasing after wind that’s useless to pursue.
For with much wisdom, sorrow will attend,
the greater knowledge, grieving will expand.