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When you get old,
    the light from the sun, moon, and stars will grow dark;
    the rain clouds will never seem to go away.
At that time your arms will shake
    and your legs will become weak.
Your teeth will fall out so you cannot chew,
    and your eyes will not see clearly.
Your ears will be deaf to the noise in the streets,
    and you will barely hear the millstone grinding grain.
You’ll wake up when a bird starts singing,
    but you will barely hear singing.
You will fear high places
    and will be afraid to go for a walk.
Your hair will become white like the flowers on an almond tree.
    You will limp along like a grasshopper when you walk.
    Your appetite will be gone.
Then you will go to your everlasting home,
    and people will go to your funeral.

Soon your life will snap like a silver chain
    or break like a golden bowl.
You will be like a broken pitcher at a spring,
    or a broken wheel at a well.

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