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For you, a thousand years are as a passing day,
    as brief as a few night hours.
You sweep people away like dreams that disappear.
    They are like grass that springs up in the morning.
In the morning it blooms and flourishes,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.

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A thousand years in your sight
    are like a day that has just gone by,
    or like a watch in the night.(A)
Yet you sweep people away(B) in the sleep of death—
    they are like the new grass of the morning:
In the morning it springs up new,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.(C)

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