For God hates utterly the bray of bragging tongues.
Now let the weeping cease; Let no one mourn again. These things are in the hands of God.
Those griefs smart most which are seen to be of our own choice.
From suffering that has been/ Decreed no man will ever find escape
A day lays low and lifts up again all human things.
Oh death, death, why do you never come to me thus summoned always day by day?