 The sun rises and the sun sets and hurries back to where it rises. The wind blows to the south and turns to the north. Round and round it goes, ever returning on its course. All streams flow into the sea, and yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again. All things are worrisome, more than one can say. The eyes never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearings.