דִּבְרֵי קֹהֶלֶת בֶּן־דָּוִד מֶלֶךְ בִּירוּשָׁלִָם

The words of Kohelet, another name for Solomon, whose words of wisdom many people gathered [nikhalu] to hear, son of David, who was king in Jerusalem.

הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים אָמַר קֹהֶלֶת הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים הַכֹּל הָבֶל

Futility of futilities, the world is absolute futility, says Kohelet; futility of futilities, all is futility. Kohelet characterizes all reality as lacking substance and significance.

מַה־יִּתְרוֹן לָאָדָם בְּכָל־עֲמָלוֹ שֶׁיַּעֲמֹל תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ

What advantage is there for man in all his toil that he toils under the sun in this world? Many events transpire here, but none of them is significant. Moreover, even when a matter of significance transpires, or a valuable item is discovered, it soon vanishes without a trace. At times, the one responsible for the event or the discovery ultimately realizes its futility himself, while at other times only future generations will arrive at that realization.

דּוֹר הֹלֵךְ וְדוֹר בָּא וְהָאָרֶץ לְעוֹלָם עֹמָדֶת

A generation goes and a generation comes, and the earth stands forever. Despite all the activity and the many apparent changes, the earth remains in place. The entire world is bound to a cyclicality that does not lead to any change.

וְזָרַח הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וּבָא הַשָּׁמֶשׁ וְאֶל־מְקוֹמוֹ שׁוֹאֵף זוֹרֵחַ הוּא שָׁם

The sun rises and the sun sets and seeks to continue uninterrupted to its place; it rises there, where it rose the previous day. Faced with this fixed circular mechanism, one comes to question how one day differs from another.

הוֹלֵךְ אֶל־דָּרוֹם וְסוֹבֵב אֶל־צָפוֹן סוֹבֵב סֹבֵב הוֹלֵךְ הָרוּחַ וְעַל־סְבִיבֹתָיו שָׁב הָרוּחַ

But the movements of the sun change slightly with the seasons: It goes to the south of the sky during winter and turns more to the north in summer; it turns and turns, goes in a different direction [ruah·], and in its circuit it returns to its original direction. Some commentaries hold that this verse refers not to the movements of the sun but to those of the wind [ruaḥ]. The wind was one of the four basic elements into which the world was thought to be divided in ancient times, earth, fire, wind, and water, and which are alluded to in these verses.

כָּל־הַנְּחָלִים הֹלְכִים אֶל־הַיָּם וְהַיָּם אֵינֶנּוּ מָלֵא אֶל־מְקוֹם שֶׁהַנְּחָלִים הֹלְכִים שָׁם הֵם שָׁבִים לָלָכֶת

All the streams go to the sea, flowing continuously, yet the sea is still not full; to the place that the streams go, there they go again, in the fixed water cycle.

כָּל־הַדְּבָרִים יְגֵעִים לֹא־יוּכַל אִישׁ לְדַבֵּר לֹא־תִשְׂבַּע עַיִן לִרְאוֹת וְלֹא־תִמָּלֵא אֹזֶן מִשְּׁמֹעַ

All matters are wearying. People take action and take action again, and exhaust themselves. A man is unable to speak everything that he would want to say, the eye will not be satisfied to see everything that it would want to see, and the ear will not be filled from hearing what it wants to hear.

מַה־שֶּׁהָיָה הוּא שֶׁיִּהְיֶה וּמַה־שֶּׁנַּעֲשָׂה הוּא שֶׁיֵּעָשֶׂה וְאֵין כָּל־חָדָשׁ תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ

In summary, that which was is that which will be, and that which was done is that which will be done; there is nothing new under the sun. Events transpire over and over again in a recurring cycle.

יֵשׁ דָּבָר שֶׁיֹּאמַר רְאֵה־זֶה חָדָשׁ הוּא כְּבָר הָיָה לְעֹלָמִים אֲשֶׁר הָיָה מִלְּפָנֵנוּ

There is a matter of which one would say: See, this is new. It has already been, in the ages that were before us. Even when something appears to be novel, upon closer examination one realizes that it is the same old familiar object; perhaps there is a superficial change, but nothing more.

אֵין זִכְרוֹן לָרִאשֹׁנִים וְגַם לָאַחֲרֹנִים שֶׁיִּהְיוּ לֹא־יִהְיֶה לָהֶם זִכָּרוֹן עִם שֶׁיִּהְיוּ לָאַחֲרֹנָה

Kohelet returns to the subject with which he began: Natural existence is fixed and cyclical, and one’s exertion under the sun is of no avail and leaves no trace, as one generation goes and another generation comes, and there is no memory of the earlier ones, who have already disappeared. One might then think that later generations will be remembered because their actions will be documented. In response, Kohelet declares: And also of the latter ones, who will be, there will be no memory among those who will be last, who will come after them, as they will be unaware of the other generations’ earlier existence. All actions will ultimately disappear and be forgotten, as nothing lasts forever, not in reality and not in memory.

אֲנִי קֹהֶלֶת הָיִיתִי מֶלֶךְ עַל־יִשְׂרָאֵל בִּירוּשָׁלִָם

I, Kohelet, was king over Israel in Jerusalem. All opportunities were open to me.

וְנָתַתִּי אֶת־לִבִּי לִדְרוֹשׁ וְלָתוּר בַּחָכְמָה עַל כָּל־אֲשֶׁר נַעֲשָׂה תַּחַת הַשָּׁמָיִם הוּא עִנְיַן רָע נָתַן אֱלֹהִים לִבְנֵי הָאָדָם לַעֲנוֹת בּוֹ

I directed my heart to seek and to search for wisdom about all that is performed beneath the heavens, and I reached the following conclusion about the deeds performed beneath the heavens: It is an evil matter that God has given to the sons of man in which to be engaged, since all of mankind’s endeavors provide no benefit, joy, or fruits.

רָאִיתִי אֶת־כָּל־הַמַּעֲשִׂים שֶׁנַּעֲשׂוּ תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ וְהִנֵּה הַכֹּל הֶבֶל וּרְעוּת רוּחַ

I have seen and examined all the actions that are performed under the sun, and behold, all is futility and herding [re’ut] wind. One who engages in futile actions of this kind is comparable to one who attempts to herd [ro’eh] the wind. Whereas one who herds sheep can produce milk, wool, or meat, one who attempts to herd wind will produce nothing from it. Indeed, the challenge of containing or directing the elusive wind is utterly ridiculous.

מְעֻוָּת לֹא־יוּכַל לִתְקֹן וְחֶסְרוֹן לֹא־יוּכַל לְהִמָּנוֹת

Any action that is performed under the sun is considered that which is warped that cannot be mended and deficiency that cannot be restored.

דִּבַּרְתִּי אֲנִי עִם־לִבִּי לֵאמֹר אֲנִי הִנֵּה הִגְדַּלְתִּי וְהוֹסַפְתִּי חָכְמָה עַל כָּל־אֲשֶׁר־הָיָה לְפָנַי עַל־יְרוּשָׁלִָם וְלִבִּי רָאָה הַרְבֵּה חָכְמָה וָדָעַת

I spoke with my heart, I contemplated, saying: Behold, I have increased and added wisdom, beyond all who were before me over Jerusalem. My heart has seen much wisdom and knowledge.

וָאֶתְּנָה לִבִּי לָדַעַת חָכְמָה וְדַעַת הֹלֵלוֹת וְשִׂכְלוּת יָדַעְתִּי שֶׁגַּם־זֶה הוּא רַעְיוֹן רוּחַ

I directed my heart to know wisdom, and to know debauchery and folly. I knew that this too, analysis of these subjects and drawing novel conclusions, is an empty notion, a futile undertaking. There is no substance or benefit in either wisdom or foolishness.

כִּי בְּרֹב חָכְמָה רָב־כָּעַס ויוֹסִיף דַּעַת יוֹסִיף מַכְאוֹב

Wisdom does not console a person, nor is it beneficial, for with great wisdom is great anger. As a person grows wiser and his powers of discernment become more sensitive, he discovers more truths that anger him. And one who increases knowledge increases pain for himself: The pain of life in the world, the pain of his disappointment with the world, and the pain associated with greater knowledge.