ECCLESIASTES CHAPTER 1 - 12

THE BOOK OF ECCLESIASTES

A farmer now retired came to my gate
The other day and sat down to relate
That Solomon spoke in the Proverbs fair
The wisdom to delight and show the stair
To heaven to the steps in youthful start.
The book that follows is a different art.
Instead of wisdom a priori he
Looks back with learned chagrin wisely to see.
Foresight and hindsight both are all around
And taught by Solomon in heavenly sound.
Beloved, let me go now beyond that way
Until I come to insight with the ray
That Solomon shines on me day to day.
I draw me to Your throne and there I stay.

ECCLESIASTES 1

1 The words of the Preacher, the son
Of David, in Jerusalem
Reigning as king, named Solomon.
2 “Vanity of vanities,” said
The Preacher in his stratagem,
“Vanity of vanities, all
Is vanity and to it wed.”
3 What profit has a man from all
His labour in which his toils call
Under the sun, under the sun?
4 One generation passes on,
Another generation’s dawn
Comes, but the earth abides forever.
5 The sun also rises to sever
Night, and the sun goes down, and hastens
To the place where it rises, chastens.
6 The wind goes toward the south, and turns
Around to northward, whirls and spurns
About continually, and comes
Again on its circuit in sums.
7 All the rivers run to the sea,
Yet the sea does not come to be
Full. To the place from which they come,
There they return again in sum.

All things indeed turn in the cycle brought
From all eternity and at last sought
By time and place and matter in the light.
All things indeed return before Your sight.
The turning and returning of creation
At first marks human mind with an elation
Until the whirling falls in weight of dream
And takes the edge from taste of things that seem.
Beloved, I too return before Your face,
To that one face to which all things must race
In spirals and gyrations of the mind
And body too among the more refined.
Beloved, I too return to find that none
Exist in truth but You, the only One.

8 All things are full of weary toil,
A man can hardly tell the foil,
The eye is never satisfied
By all the sights with which it’s plied,
Nor ear filled with hearing the spoil.
9 The past repeats itself again,
What men have done, again shall men
Do, no new thing’s under sun’s ken.
10 Is there anything can be said
To be innovation when spread?
It’s already been of old time
Before us in the ancient rime.
11 No remembrance of what’s before,
No remembrance of what’s in store
Shall come after the thing’s in core.
12 Well, I the preacher was the king
Of Israel in Jerusalem.
13 I gave my heart to seek the thing
And search out by wisdom the gem
Of all done under heaven’s eye.
It’s a God-given task to vie.
14 I’ve seen all that’s done under sun,
All’s vanity, vexation won.
15 What’s crooked cannot be made straight;
That which is wanting has no weight.
16 I pondered in my heart and said
”See, I have grown an adult head
With more wisdom than all before
Me in Jerusalem’s fair door,
Indeed my heart had much in store
Of wisdom and of knowledge lore.
17 ”I set myself to find out truth,
To know madness and folly’s youth,
And saw this too to be no more
Than spirit’s vexing at the door.
18 ”For in much wisdom is much grief,
To increase knowledge for relief
Is only to increase the grief.”

There are some in the dress of faith who say
That innovation in faith’s the wrong way.
In fact there is no new thing under sun,
And innovation’s a misnomer won.
What seems to be a new thing and a fresh
Is just the old false way in a new mesh.
It’s only ignorance of the past rate
That makes anything seem new in the state.
Enthusiasm hits the ban because
It’s blind to former laws and present cause.
Beloved, I see the track of great and tall
Upon the cobblestones along the mall
And follow at a distance to remain
Apart from innovation’s new-found gain.

ECCLESIASTES 2

1 I said in my heart, Go to now,
I’ll prove with high living somehow,
Enjoy yourself, but see this too
Was also just vanity’s due.
2 I said of laughter, madness, and
Of mirth, of what use is the stand?
3 I gave myself over to wine,
Though with wisdom I came to pine,
To lay hold on folly in sign,
Till I might see what profits rise
For the sons of men from the skies
In all the days of their life’s prize.
4 I made myself great monuments,
I built myself houses for tents,
I planted vineyards with contents,
5 Gardens and orchards, planted trees
In them all with fruitful bounties.
6 I dug there reservoirs by which
To irrigate my trees by ditch.
7 I got servants and maidens, and
Servants born in my house and land,
I also had great wealth of large
And small cattle more than the charge
Of all within Jerusalem.
8 I gathered silver and gold gem,
A kingly treasure from the hem
Of lands outlying, and I had
Men and maid singers to be glad
With the delights of sons of men,
Musical instruments in den
And everything there is again.

The vanity that Solomon provides
Himself is not all dross to dream besides.
El Greco also paid musicians drawn
To perform on the gold-enchanted dawn.
He painted better while the silver notes
Were hovering on the air, dancing like motes
Across Toledo’s sun-benched terraces,
And so no painting has been done like his.
Beloved, I take the lesson still to heart,
Despite the loveliness of human art,
And know that all is vanity and dart
Before the grand reality that You
Proclaim from throne and the celestial pew
Along the meadowed covenants of dew.

9 So I was greater than all who
Reigned before me and those who drew
Breath in Jerusalem, also
My wisdom was a thing to show.
10 I did not deprive myself of
Anything of desire or love,
Nor my heart from any joy’s fruit
Or labour of myself to boot.
11 I looked at all my hands had made,
On all my own labour had paid,
And see, all was vanity stayed,
Vexation of the spirit strayed,
Without profit under the sun.
12 I turned myself to see wisdom,
Madness and folly, for in sum
What can man do for the king come?
Only what’s already been done.
13 I saw that wisdom’s greater than
Folly as far as light can scan
Above the darkness wherein’s man.
14 The wise man’s eyes are in his head,
But the fool walks in darkness spread,
And I myself perceived also,
The same end comes to all below.

The same end comes to both the fool and wise,
And all are equally beneath Your eyes.
The vanity of existence is great,
And yet You set creation up in state.
There’s no escape from vanity of air,
But there’s no one to fault: it is Your share,
And if Your share and Your reflected grace,
It’s nothing to deplore before Your face.
Beloved, I flee to vanity and find
The empty universe as well and blind,
And as I whirl upon the diamond stair,
I meet the reason of all things in trace
Fast painted on the hopeful, pungent rind,
Sunk to the core of everything unmined.

15 Then I said in my heart, “As it
Happens to the fool, so is fit
To come upon me also, and
Why was I then more wise to stand?”
Then I said in my heart again,
“This also is vanity’s den.
16 “There’s no remembrance of the wise
Than of the fool under the skies,
Since what is now in days to come
Shall all be forgotten in sum.
How dies the wise man as the fool,
All enter into the same pool.”
17 That’s why I hated life; because
The work done under sun has claws
For me, and all is vanity,
Vexation of spirit at sea.
18 Indeed I hated all my work
That I’d accomplished without shirk
Under the sun, because I had
To leave it to other men glad
Who should come after me for bad.
19 And who knows whether he’ll be wise
Or a fool? Still he’ll rule in guise
Over all my labour wherein
I have laboured for good or sin,
And wherein I have been shown wise
Under the sun, both set and rise.
And this too’s vanity’s surprise.

Illusion of the senseless waste of being
Comes from the timely way I have of seeing.
If I could enter in the way that You
Sit above time and space and keep in view
All things both past and future in their way,
All things both in and out creation’s sway,
Then I too could with equanimity
Look on boredom or nostalgia freely.
Beloved, I take my flight above the known
Idols of vanity I have been shown
To enter at last the celestial throne.
I see the whirling planets with their share
Of light and darkness streaming everywhere;
I see the whole above the parts of care.

20 That’s why I was about to let
My heart despair for all the net
Which I took under the sun’s set.
21 There’s a man whose labour is wise,
In knowledge and in justice’ guise,
Yet to a man who has not worked
He’ll leave it heritage unquirked.
This too is vanity and great
Evil upon the earth and state.
22 For what has man for all his toil,
And anguish of his heart in coil,
Working under the sun on soil?
23 For all his days are sad in grief,
His heart at night has no relief.
This too of vanity’s the chief.
24 There’s nothing better for a man
Than eating and drinking a span,
That he should let himself enjoy
The fruited labour of employ.
I saw this also that it came
From hand of Ælohim in fame.
25 For who shall so feast and abound
With delights as I have been found?
26 For it is given to good men
In His sight wisdom and the den
Of knowledge and joy, but to those
Who sin He gives but pain in throes,
To gather wealth and to heap up
What God has made good in his cup.
This too is vanity and more
Vexation of the spirit’s store.

By Solomon lust is a better vice
Than greed or cruelty, and that is nice.
Enjoyment of the harvest and the wait
To watch the warm night cover all the state,
These are the only things creation gives
To humankind upon the earth he lives.
Beloved, the pagan kings of old who shut
Their gold within their tombs in wasteful glut
Favoured their heirs by making them to strut
In labour to amass another hut.
If You have made the purchase price to lie
Upon the sons who steal their father’s sky,
You also provide for the thief who comes
To steal the buried crowns and golden sums.

ECCLESIASTES 3

1 To every thing there is a season,
Every time under heaven a reason:
2 A time to be born, time to die;
A time to plant, a time to fly
And pull up what is planted by;
3 A time to kill, a time to heal;
A time to break down, time to feel
Elation to build up in steel;
4 A time to weep, a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, a time for gaff
And dancing over, under staff;
5 A time to throw stones, and a time
To keep from throwing stones in rhyme;
A time to embrace, time to stop
Embracing all but mom and pop.
6 A time to get, a time to lose;
A time to keep, time to refuse.
7 A time to rend, a time to sew.
A time for silence to be slow,
A time to speak when on the go.
8 A time to love, a time to hate;
A time for war, for peaceful state.
9 What profit more awaits the man
For all his labour and his plan?
10 I’ve seen the rushing to and fro
In trouble God has made to go
The sons of men, both fast and slow.
11 He’s made all things good in their time,
And set them for the world in rhyme,
So that men cannot find out what
Ælohim has made from the butt
Of time until the time is shut.

There is a time for everything, the good,
The evil and the things that I think should
Occur and those that I think all go wrong:
Your verdicts, my Beloved, become my song.
A man sticks at the law in justice held.
But Your reality comes in to weld
All things about the world and sky and deep
Into one whole, both those who laugh and weep.
Beloved, I rage and praise You in one breath,
I live in song and laughter, life and death.
The hopeful hell and heaven of despair
Unite to cleave the crackling, cloudy air
And open to my view the one estate:
You on Your throne alone above all fate.

12 And I have realized that there
Is naught but to rejoice a share,
And do well in this lifetime bare.
13 For every man who eats and drinks
And sees good of his work, he thinks
This is the gift of Ælohim,
The best of waking and of dream.
14 I’ve learned that all the works God made
Continue and for ever stayed,
We cannot add there anything,
Nor take away from wandering
Those things that Ælohim has made,
That He may be feared in parade.
15 What has been made continues on,
The things that shall be, from the dawn
Of time have been, and Ælohim
Restores what is past and in dream.

The works of human hand add not a whit
To Your creation, My Beloved, and fit.
There’s naught but to eat and drink lovely sorts
And then rejoice to give You Your reports.
The time that carries me past flooded states
Is motionless to You in what relates
The distant legends of past centuries,
The pulse I feel today, with equal ease
The future dimly caught in symphonies.
Beloved, I now rejoice and let that joy
Be the eternity that You employ,
And when I fail in praise let those be days
Of the illusion for which no one pays.
Let all reality once come to cloy.

16 I saw under the sun in dress
Of righteousness there wickedness,
And in the place of justice lay
Iniquity by night and day.
17 And I said in my heart, indeed
God shall judge both the just in seed
And wicked ones, and then shall be
The time of everything to see.
18 I told myself that humankind
Would be proven by Ælohim,
And He would show them all aligned
To be like beasts groping in dream.
19 For that which comes on sons of man
Comes on the beasts too in their span,
As the one dies so die they all,
Indeed they have one breath in thrall,
So that a man has nothing more
Than what a beast has on that score:
For all is vanity in store.
20 And yet all things go to one place:
Of earth they were made in a trace,
And into earth they run their race.
21 Who knows if the breath of the sons
Of Adam ascend up in tons,
And if the breath of beasts goes down?
22 I’ve found nothing’s better in town
Than for a man to joy in work,
That this is his lot, not to shirk.
For who shall teach him of what things
Shall be after him on their wings.

The sweet Christian and Jew and Muslim too
Are all sure that they are a higher crew
Than animals caught on the slender screw.
Truth is the breath that feeds the art and fall
Of science in the human heart and stall
Is the same breath that touches every lung
Of bird and beast, and trills on every tongue.
Though none may know if breath goes up or down,
I trust that every breath upon the brown
Meadow of autumn in the deathly pale
Goes back to You without other avail.
I follow on my breath even in dark
And see Your face illuminated stark
Against the vision of the primal park.

ECCLESIASTES 4

1 I turned and thought about the things
Oppressors do in names of kings
Under the sun, and saw the tears
Of the oppressed, and for their fears
They had no comforter, but on
The side of the oppressors drawn
Was power, but no comfort at dawn.
2 So I thought that the dead were lucky,
More than the living caught in mucky.
3 Indeed, better than both are those
Who have not yet been born or chose,
Who have not seen the evil things
Done under the sun in its rings.
4 I thought of all the effort and
Every right work, and how it’s scanned
With envy by the neighbour. This
Too’s vanity, vexation’s kiss.
5 The fool just folds his hands to wait,
And eats his own flesh in his gate.
6 Better a handful and in peace
Than both hands filled without release
With effort and vexation’s crease.
7 Then I returned and then I saw
Under the sun vanity’s claw.

Amen, my brother, I say to the man
Who wrote Ecclesiastes as by plan!
It is a vain thing to work hard in toil
Merely to gain the envy and the spoil
Of neighbours with claw ready to show what
Greed is secreted in the traitor’s gut.
Refusal to get out and make a dime
Is just as crass and is a waste of time.
Beloved, the right way is to work six days
And rest upon the seventh for Your praise,
And find the daily bread and eat the nut,
The radish and the celery to strut,
The corn and bean and squash, but put the knife
To throat and hand of action for the wife.

8 The man who lives alone and he
Has neither child nor brother’s fee,
Still works head off whilst his eye’s not
Satisfied with the gear he’s got,
Nor stops to question why he works.
This too’s vanity without quirks.
9 Two are better than one, because
They have a good reward in paws
For all their effort in the straws.
10 For if one fall the other comes
To lift his fellow on his drums,
But hard it is to one alone
Who falls down, maybe breaks a bone,
With no one to help back on throne.
11 By the same token, if two sleep
In the same bed, they do not weep
For the cold, but how can one be
Warm by himself and in his tree?
12 Against a single man some might
Come out into his street to fight,
But two can hold up a defence.
A threefold cord is strong in tents.
13 Better a child both poor and wise,
Than an old king who will despise
Wisdom, and cannot see the right
Of what the future brings to light.
14 Sometimes out of prison and chains
A man comes to kingdoms and reigns,
And one born to the royal seat
Is struck with poverty replete.
15 I’ve seen all living under sun
Surround heir to the throne and won.
16 The number of folk before him
Is infinite and all those dim
Who shall come after, they shall not
Rejoice in him, but this too’s plot
Of vanity, vexation’s spot.

I don’t know if good Solomon when old
Suffered in bed from heartache or the cold.
He had enough of wives to keep the mat
Well warmed before he came to lie or sat.
I don’t know if good Solomon when fat
And ancient envied children for their youth,
And thought that they had plenty of the truth.
I don’t know if good Solomon loved gold.
Beloved, I know that You give in Your share
The power and strength to one, to one beware
The hopes that disappoint, because the heart
Cannot stand where the riches play their part.
With wealth and power You give the chance to do
The right, but see how many fit the shoe.

ECCLESIASTES 5

1 Just watch your step, when you come in
The house of God to hear the din.
Much better is obedience
Than sacrifices without sense
Of those who do not know how bad
The things they do are, it is sad.

It seems the problem of those who hold that
One need not obey You, but burn the fat
Of candles before crucifixes where
The sacrifices without sense shine bare,
Is nothing new at all. I see complaint
And warning anciently told to the saint.
But watch your step is right, for those who pray
To images on crosses hold the sway,
And they are out to get the ones who stay
Obedient on the straight and narrow way.
Beloved, I take Your warning and remain
At home on Sabbaths to recite for gain
The Decalogue and holy prophets’ cry
In syllables Semitic to the sky.

2 Don’t use rash words, don’t let your heart
Be hasty to utter a part
Before Ælohim, for God stands
In heaven and you upon earth’s lands,
So let your words be few in hands.

Your words, Beloved, are few, I don’t deny,
Just one hundred and seventy-two not shy
As spoken by You upon Mount Sinai.
I cannot get along with such a speech:
I have so much to say when on the beach.
I might take time in moments’ crime to think
Before I make a statement on the brink,
But still I need more words than You, I fear:
I counted “eths” too in commandments’ gear.
Indeed You stand in heaven. If I did too,
Instead of on the earth and in all view,
I might get by with silence as You do.
But here where all reality is met,
My words’ illusions are a better set.

3 Dreams follow after many cares,
In many words are folly’s shares.
4 If you’ve vowed aught to Ælohim,
Don’t wait to pay it and with cream,
For an unfaithful, foolish vow
Displeases Him, and so then now
Pay what you’ve promised, ram or cow.
5 And it’s much better not to vow,
Than after vowing not perform
What you promised when you were warm.
6 Don’t let your mouth cause you to sin,
And don’t tell the angel to win,
“There is no providence”, lest God
Be angry at your words in prod
And destroy all your works in pod.
7 Where there are many dreams there are
Many vanities, and words’ star
Without number, but fear God’s car.

How many dreams of superstitious rank
Give way to omens sinister and lank!
Daydreams and the night visions bridle husk
To grave out new gods on the dawn and dusk.
The vanities of ancient days and those
That rise today to keep men on their toes
All call the sentence with its fatal blows:
There is no providence for which to thank.
Beloved, I walk in providence and swear
The scent of the gardenia heady there
Returns in proof of all that’s great and fair.
Beloved, I stand in providence and see
The shadows of its jewels about me
In honeyed overgrowth eternally.

8 If you see the poor are oppressed,
And violent sentence addressed,
And justice perverted and guessed,
Do not be surprised at the rest,
For the one in authority
Is also under a thumb’s spree,
And there are others in the tree
Who sit even above those three.

I always thought that it was true the fate
Of civil servants who can never wait
To lay a stripe upon those with no power
To stand up to them in the naked hour
Were marshalled to their evil deeds by those
Who rank in file of hierarchical pose.
Beloved, if men in their chain of command
Find in that rush excuse to lay the hand
So heavy on the back of poverty,
They do so whilst forgetful of degree
With which You rule creation faithfully.
Do You tire of hearing my vain complaint
Of such oppression on the poor and saint?
Your servant brought it up. I was not quaint.

9 The best thing for the land is that
The king were honoured where he sat.
10 The one who loves money shall not
Be satisfied with what he’s got,
And he who loves wealth above claim
Shall have no pleasure in the same,
For all this too is vanity.
11 Where there are riches great there are
Also many to eat the bar.
What profits to the owner rise
To see his wealth before his eyes?
12 While sleep is sweet to working men,
Whether or not he eats again,
But the full stomach of the rich
Makes him sleepless to turn and pitch.
13 It’s tragic what I see beneath
The sun, riches held to bequeath
To the hurt of the one who keeps.
14 For it is lost, the owner weeps,
He’s sired a son poverty reaps.

The good Solomon ought to know that men
Are happy when they see their guests again
Eat much, no matter what the cost in view.
The master joys to see a healthy crew.
Do You not too, Beloved, the Sovereign of
The universe, look upon us in love
As we devour the substance of Your earth,
And render to You nothing here in worth?
Beloved, the veils of human eyes are such
That even divine of the wise in touch
Will utter strange things and walk with a crutch.
The helping hand is weak, and yet there’s much
That needs support of veiled knowledge in kind.
Before the fruit we have to bite the rind.

15 As he came naked from the womb
Of his mother, so shall in doom
Return with nothing for his labour.
16 A tragedy: as he came out
Shall he return and without doubt.
What profit’s in work to the wind?
17 All the days of his life are binned
In darkness and in many cares,
In misery and sorrow’s shares.
18 This therefore has seemed good to me,
That man should eat and drink freely
And enjoy the fruit of his labour,
As he has worked under the sun,
All the days of his life when done,
Which Ælohim has given him:
And this is his portion grown dim.
19 Every man to whom Ælohim
Has given wealth and substance and
Has given him to eat in hand,
And to enjoy his share rejoicing
In his labour, this is the voicing
Of Ælohim’s gift on the land.
20 For he shall not much mind the days
Of his life, for Ælohim’s praise
Delights his heart in all his ways.

It is a true thing that the one in praise,
In cantillation of the Hebrew lays,
Forgets to count the passing of his days.
I sing the Psalms and quibble at the quirk
Of every kind of cantillating work,
And still my heart is lifted as I raise
My thanks to You, Beloved, and do not shirk.
It is a true thing that the hour is light
When the scrawled footprints You have left in sight
Become a thing to hear, the peak of sound,
The ease of burdens left upon the ground.
So as I travel on the brief path here
That takes me from the cradle to the bier,
I find delight wherever I may steer.

ECCLESIASTES 6

1 This too’s a tragedy I’ve seen
Under the sun where men have been.
2 Ælohim gives a man his wealth,
Riches and honour, in his stealth
There’s nothing lacking from desire,
But Ælohim does not retire
And let the man enjoy it all,
But gives to another in stall.
This is a vanity and thrall.
3 If a man has a hundred sons,
And lives a long life on his buns,
And he consumes nought of his wealth,
And has no funeral for his health,
I say the still-born child is better
Than he is down to the last letter.
4 He came in vain, goes to the dark,
His name forgotten in the park.
5 He did not see the sun, his rest
Is better than the rich man’s best.
6 Although he lived two thousand years,
But had no joy in wealth and gears,
Don’t all haste to one place in fears?
7 All human effort’s for his mouth,
But his soul’s not filled north or south.

The twist of time caught on a corner of
The cloak of my existence and its glove
Turns all things sweet to bitter as they flee
From time to taste into eternity.
And yet without the limitation’s fee
There could be no moment of ecstasy,
To coming on of taste as the fruit sinks
Into the maw of lust with links on links.
Beloved, I am the burden of Your song
Essential that You might remember long,
As long as I am whirling like a spark
Of light and love toward eternal dark.
My melancholy by-product is vain,
But Your enjoyment of the world is sane.

8 What has a wise man more than fool?
And what the poor man in the pool,
Walking before the living school?
9 Better to see what is desired
Than to desire what’s not required.
But this too is a vanity,
Chasing of wind that blows freely.
10 What shall come has been given name
And plot since the start of the game,
And man cannot escape the net
Determined for him, he will get.
11 The cycles of philosophy
Are words without meaning to see.
12 Why ponder abstracts when man knows
Not even what profits his toes
In all the days in which he goes
And time passes like shadow rows?
Who can tell him what is to come
After him and under the sun?

It did not take Wittgenstein to tell us
Philosophy’s an endless, wordy fuss,
And yet the human mind requires the lot
As much as bread and wine upon the plot.
The sound of the wind on the tundra bare
Is futile, yes, as futile, I so swear
As all the wisdom that the saintly wear,
And yet it is a necessary thing,
Determined by the flesh in ring on ring.
Beloved, I raise the memory of Your name
As though it were a matter of acclaim,
And in determined, necessary flame,
I step upon the circle and return
Illuminated where my life would burn.

ECCLESIASTES 7

1 A good name before good perfume,
Death day rather than birthday’s gloom.
2 Better the house of mourning than
The house of feasting, for the plan
Is to put in mind all the end
Of life in what’s to come in trend.
3 Better to rage than laugh because
In serious countenance the clause
Of the offender meets its laws.
4 There’s mourning in the wise man’s heart,
The heart of fools takes joyful part.
5 Better to hear wise man’s rebuke,
Than be deceived by flattering fluke.
6 Just like the crackling of the brush
Burning under a pot’s the gush
Of laughter from a fool, now hush.

Good Solomon the preacher comes to make
Reversal of his former sermon’s stake.
Now sorrow is the better way to go
And leave the feasting and the feathered show.
I doubt his words, except that time is slow.
Both sorrow and the laughter in its wake
Are empty, true, but they’re here for the sake
Of universe that is an empty screen
Until Your image, my Beloved, is seen.
I turn upon my atom in relief,
And whirl upon belief and unbelief
Until the mixture’s fixture’s pictured there,
And I go to the slaughter ground as bare.
Beloved, the image is eternal stare.

7 Oppression troubles the wise man,
Destroying his heart’s strength in span.
8 The end of a speech beats the start,
And better is patience than art
Of hubris applied in the mart.
9 Don’t be quick to get angry, for
Anger’s in a fool’s bosom’s store.
10 Don’t say ”What do you think’s the cause
The good old times had better laws?”
Such questions are foolish in clause.

The bad old days is more like to say truth.
The human heart now is just as uncouth
As in the days of Noah and David.
So Solomon has no secrets to lid.
The main concern today is that the toys
Are bigger and worse, though the wicked boys
Are just the same as ever on the heath.
No generation deserves any wreath.
Beloved, I think that evil times may be
In their own character’s tranquillity,
And yet no better and no worse in fact.
The average human ways in how to act
Are average for all time, and yet I make
No promise for sin original’s sake.

11 Wisdom is worth a fortune and
Brings benefit to all the land.
12 Wisdom’s defence and so is siller,
But learning and science are thriller,
And give life to all but the killer.
13 Ponder the worlds of Ælohim,
Who can correct His stitch and seam?
14 When things go well, enjoy yourself,
Knowing that times will turn to elf,
For Ælohim has made them both,
So man finds no reason for oath.

If oppression troubles the wisest men
And so’s the mark to bat clear as a wen,
I wonder why I keep harping upon
Oppression all around me on earth drawn.
Perhaps in older times it took a man
Of wisdom to see the oppressor’s plan.
But now that obvious is watchword’s toll,
Even a fool can see the hidden shoal.
Beloved, no man can right creation’s path
Determined by Your love and by Your wrath,
But even if a fool today can see
Oppression on the bank of Galilee,
There still are moneyed clients who deny
All things that happen here beneath the sky.

15 These things I also saw in days
When vanity had taught my ways:
A just man perishes to find
His justice returns not in kind,
A wicked man lives long and sweet
In his own wickedness’s treat.
16 Do not be more just than is meet,
Nor more wise than requires the street,
For why destroy your hands and feet?
17 Do not be wicked to excess,
And don’t be foolish in address,
Lest you die before your time bless.
18 It’s good to help and hold the just,
Do not betray the good man’s trust,
For the one who fears Ælohim
Neglects nothing that he would deem.
19 Wisdom has strengthened the wise arm
More than ten princes on the farm.
20 For there is no just man on earth
That does good without sin in berth.
21 But do not eavesdrop all the time,
Lest you hear your servant in crime
A-laying curses on your prime.
22 For your conscience knows well that you
Have also often said undue
Of others when they’re not in view.

Not so, Beloved, I’m almost sure that I
Have been more butt of evil speaking sly
Than I have given of the sure offence.
But then, who knows what secret sins are dense.
The word of Solomon gives me no thrill:
He claims there is no righteous on the hill,
But all or most are mediocre souls
Both good and bad, and with no higher goals.
The fact is, my Beloved, the words You gave
On Mount Sinai to liberated slave
Are few and easy to follow to letter.
Solomon is too hasty a go-getter.
I’ve know a guy or two, if not a gal,
Perfect in keeping Your law for the sal.

23 I’ve tried all things in wisdom. I
Have said ”I will be wise or try,”
But it has kept far from my eye.
24 It is at a far deeper place,
Who can come to the place to trace?
25 I set my heart and mind to know,
And seek out wisdom in the flow,
To know the wickedness of fool,
The error of imprudent stool.
26 I found a wench more bitter than
Death, who’s a hunter’s snare for plan,
Her heart’s a net, her hands are bands.
The one who pleases Ælohim
Shall escape from her on the sands,
But every sinner on the scene
Shall be caught by her as in dream.
27 “Here this I have found,” said the preacher,
Examining each thing to teach her,
And to discover the account,
28 Which still my soul seeks in amount,
And I’ve not found it. One man in
A thousand I’ve found without sin,
But not a woman in the bin.
29 Only this I have found, that God
Made man right, but he’s caught in pod
Of questions to infinity.
Who is as the wise man and free?
And who has known the ultimate
Of matters when the consumate?

Each species has uniqueness in the sway
Of universe, the eagle has its way
Of sight, the dervish dog a sense of smell.
All things created are created well.
What is the greatness of the human soul?
Perhaps men are exceptional for toll
In their capacity to enslave more
Beasts and men than the ant upon the shore.
Perhaps men are exceptional in that
They will destroy their living habitat.
Or then the preacher’s right whose best suggestion
Is that humankind knows to ask a question.
Before he hears replies, he has a set
Of hundreds more vain questions for a bet.

ECCLESIASTES 8

1 Who knows the wise, and meaning’s grace?
A man’s wisdom’s shown in his face,
And who can explicate its trace?
2 I watch the king’s mouth and that for
The commandments of God’s oath’s store.
3 Don’t be quick to turn from His face,
But leave the evil work in place,
For He’ll act by His own good pleasure.
4 His word is full of power in treasure,
And no one can say to Him, ”Why
Do You act in this manner sly?”
5 The one who keeps the commandment
Shall find no evil in his tent.
The heart of a wise man takes hold
On the times and the answer bold.
6 There is a time and place for all
And great affliction for man’s thrall.
7 For none knows what shall come to be,
And who reveals eternity?
8 It’s not in man’s power to stop breath,
Neither can he choose day of death,
Nor can he rest when war’s at hand,
Nor shall his evil make him stand.

The secret of prophetic gift is just
The taking hold of times and measured dust.
It is a power that’s granted to those who
With long experience and detachment view
The ways of men and causes and effect,
The structures of the worlds set to reflect.
But prophecy is made only by men
Of virtue, evil cannot scan the glen,
Because the wicked way must blind itself
To what the human heart lays up on shelf.
That’s why prediction of the future’s thought
Always to be the divine product wrought.
The hidden truth in all lies fine revealed
Before the eye of righteousness and healed.

9 I’ve pondered all things, set my heart
To all under the sun in art.
Sometimes one man rises to rule
Over another as a fool.
10 I saw the wicked buried well,
Who had lived in the temple’s dell,
Praised in the town as just men too,
But this too is vanity’s view.

The Neolithic faith gave place of proof
To burial as evidence of woof.
And yet one is not sure if such required
Belief in souls or just body retired.
Cremation gives a hint that such may fly
Up in the air after folks burn and die.
The care that ancients used to dispose of
The body may just speak of human love.
The horror of unburied bodies brings
The harsh words of the prophet out in springs,
Explains why You, Beloved, threaten the wings
Of life before Jerusalem at bay,
Before the troubled heart comes up to pay
The price of life in Kidron for a day.

11 Because the judgement falls not fast
Upon the wicked, they are cast
To do evil without fear past.
12 But though a sinner sin apace
A hundred times by patience’ face,
I know it shall be well with them
That fear God and trust in His grace.
13 But let it not be well in den
Of wickedness, nor days prolonged,
But let them pass, all those who’ve wronged
As a shade that fear not the face
Of Ælohim in their disgrace.
14 Another vanity on earth:
There are just men who suffer for
Having done no evil in store,
And there are wicked men whose fate
Is as sure as though they were straight
To do the deeds of righteousness:
But this too I judge a vain dress.
15 That’s why I praised the joyful way,
For there’s no good for man in sway
Under the sun, but to eat and
To drink and be in merry band,
For he shall take nothing with him
Of his labour in the days dim
Of his life which Ælohim gave
Him under the sun where to slave.
16 And I applied my heart to know
Wisdom and understand the go
Of what’s upon the earthly show,
For there are some that day and night
Take no sleep with their eyes alight.
17 I understood that man can find
No reason for all these divined
That are done under the sun, and
The more he tries to find the sense,
The less he shall have for his pence,
Indeed though wise men claim to know,
He shall not be able to show.

One thing is good and true about the way
Philosophy has gone in recent day:
They search no longer to find out the truth,
But think such attitude one of the youth.
They know that they do not know of the score
Of why and how events laid up in store
Show lack of line from cause to their effect,
And fail to meet expectations elect.
Beloved, there is no answer to the quire:
I only pray You light the wicked pyre
And in the end save righteousness to be
Rewarded with a generous hand’s fee.
The last shall be first is divine decree
If Jesus is lifted to that degree.

ECCLESIASTES 9

1 I’ve pondered all this in my heart
To understand them for my part,
There are just men and wise ones too,
And their works are in God’s hand due,
And yet man does not know if He
’S worthy of love or enmity.
2 All things are kept uncertain till
The time to come and foot the bill,
Because all things in equal measure
Fall on the just and wicked leisure,
Upon the good and evil too,
Upon the clean and unclean crew,
To him who offers sacrifice,
And him to whom just prayers suffice.
The good and wicked share their fate,
Just as the false witness in rate
Succeeds as well as truthful mate.

The ancient quarrel of the priest and singer
In Solomon’s fair temple without wringer,
That blood of beasts must or must not be shed,
And whether singing Psalms by cantor led
Suffices for the worship of the true
Is something that goes on nowadays too.
Some say the blood of Christ must cleanse the sin,
And You cannot forgive those who don’t win
Without a human sacrifice or three,
The crucifixion on a sacred tree.
But others think it is enough to pray
And praise Your name and raise it in the way
Of some repentance and so gain the pay
Of Your forgiveness and eternally.

3 This is a tragedy and great
Among all things done under sun,
That the same fate awaits all men,
Whereby their hearts are filled again
With evil and contempt while they
Live, and afterwards they’re the prey
Of hell where they’re brought down to pay.

The preacher notices that punishment
For sin put off to days when You present
The final judgement of all beings here,
Results in wicked humans losing fear.
If sin had its reward upon the day
That sinners sinned, then in another way,
They would prevent themselves from pride and fall
And stand as righteous by the slaughter wall.
Beloved, perhaps You think to preserve best
The love and freedom of men in the West,
But think, at last, would they not rather have
Life and reward than death at hand of Slav
And sinking into Tophet for the guile
They perpetrated in a wicked while?

4 No man’s immortal and none hope
For this, and living dog on rope
Is better than a lion dead.
5 The living know that they are led
To death, but the dead do not know
Anything at all of the show,
Nor do they come to claim reward,
For they’ve forgotten peace and sword.

A lot of people try to call the dead
In consultation to see what they’ve said.
It seems that’s a mistake, since they do not
Know anymore whatever’s in the plot.
The Jewish teaching now is that the soul
Is as immortal as the Grecian bowl.
The Christian and the Muslim both agree
With Jewish thoughts about the human tree.
I guess the Free Thinker and Marxist cad
Are all that’s left of this preacher’s last pad.
The dead know nothing of the whirling dance,
But sleep in shades of Sheol without chance
To wander like a lion dead for dog,
Or croak a message to the world of frog.

6 Their love and hatred too are gone,
Their envy perished with the dawn,
They have no more a part to play
In this world’s work under sun’s sway.
7 Go then and eat your bread with joy,
And drink your wine in glad employ,
Because your works please Ælohim
And bring you glory in His beam.
8 At all times let your garments be
White and let not your head be free
Of fragrant oil to smell sweetly.
9 Live joyfully with the loved wife,
All the days of unsteady life,
Which are given to you beneath
The sun, all the time and the wreath
Of vanity, for this your lot
Is life in the labour you’ve got
Beneath the sun you work in plot.

Because the shades forget the joys of earth
The preacher says to live in faithful mirth
While one can, for the days soon shall appear
When death claims all, health, wealth, and land and gear.
There is no bread to eat within the grave,
The clothing of the king as well as slave
Is all the same to those who do not see
Nor hear the praise of watching company.
The wife is loved as long as she’s around,
But soon forgotten resting in the ground.
Beloved, the preacher must invent a hell
And paradise to bring the hallowed bell,
To fill the offering plates with cockle shell
Or other glitter stuff the prideful tell.

11 I turned me to another thing,
And saw under the sun in ring
The race is not won by the swift,
Nor the battle to the strong gift,
Nor bread to the wise, nor the wealth
To the learnèd of man or elf,
Nor favour to the skilful one,
But time and chance are in all done.
12 A man does not know his own end,
But as fish caught on the hook’s bend,
And as birds tripped up in the snare,
So men are taken unaware
In evil times, when it shall come
Upon them in a sudden hum.

When any job is filled, the bet is sure
The competent did not get the vote pure,
But whoever appealed by outward show
Of hue of skin or wit to gain the glow,
Or paid a fee in sex or compliment,
Or fudged credentials on a paper lent.
Even a race is not won by the swift
But by the one who somehow got a lift.
Beloved, I wonder how You got Your place
As Sovereign of the dastard human race.
If You were honest at the God trials then,
I daresay someone else about the glen
Is better qualified to play at God,
Is better shooter of peas from the pod.

13 This wisdom also I have seen
Under the sun, and it has been
To me a mighty thought to lean.
14 A little town with few defenders,
There came to attack it in benders
A great king and set round to build
Bulwarks against it and fulfilled
A perfect siege without blood spilled.
15 Now there was in the place a man
Both poor and wise who found a plan
To save the city, but no man
Afterward remembered his ban.
16 And I said wisdom’s better far
Than strength, how then is this man’s star
Neglected for his wisdom heard,
And not given reward deserved?
17 The words of the wise in the hall
Of silence are heard more than bawl
Of a prince among fools in stall.
18 Better is wisdom than arms set,
And the one who offends one met
Shall love many good things in bet.

Encyclopaedias are books of myth
That tell who stole the credit for things with
Approval of his peers. The story drawn
Distracts observers from the sun at dawn,
And shows the fiery skirts of dancing girls
Claimed to be all the light and heat in twirls.
The mass of men live in the meagre hoax
Of mediocre rhyme and simple jokes.
The great and the sublime are set for eyes
Of only one or two at most in guise.
Beloved, Your art above the heavens is spread
In glories human eyesight can’t be led
To see. Instead I look around the lot
Admiring dandelions for hue and plot.

ECCLESIASTES 10

1 Dead flies in the oil of perfumer
Cause it to stink to the consumer,
So is a little folly in
Reputed for wisdom in bin
And honour. 2 And a wise man’s heart
Is at his right hand, but the part
Of a fool’s at his left to start.
3 Indeed when a fool walks along
The way his wisdom is not strong,
And he reveals to everyone
That he’s a fool by what he’s done.
4 If the ruler’s spirit is wrought
Against you, do not leave your plot,
For yielding pacifies a lot.
5 There’s error I’ve seen under sun,
Evil coming from ruler done,
6 Folly decked out in dignity,
While the rich sit in low degree.
7 I’ve seen the servants mounted fine
While princes just like servants dine.
8 Who digs the pit falls in its grim,
Who breaks Ghadir, snakes shall sting him.

The word’s too general to take the cumb
With seriousness and with a certain sum,
And yet the walling out of Hebrew word
Is walling in of Arabic when stirred.
The word reminds me of the serment spoken
By Muhammad and for a lasting token,
The last word given to the bowing crew.
To take Ali as governor and true
Is to submit, Beloved, again to You.
Beloved, I see the servants mounted fine,
I see the Muslim monarchies in line,
But turn away with thanks and take instead
The poverty of Ali on my head,
Obedience to his hand where I am led.

9 The one who takes away the stones
Shall be hurt by them to his groans,
And those who cut down trees shall live
To have them fall on them like sieve.
10 If iron has lost its edge for blunt,
It can be sharpened with a grunt,
So after diligence and work
Shall follow wisdom from its lurk.
11 If some snake bites without the charm,
It’s the same as backbiter’s harm.
12 A wise man’s mouth makes words of grace,
But fool’s lips show him his disgrace.
13 He starts his words with folly, and
He ends his talk in error planned.
14 A fool keeps talking. A man knows
Not what has been and what more goes,
And who shall keep him on his toes?

I must be a fool too, Beloved, since I
Keep chattering beneath the darkening sky.
I rise before the sun on winter days
To twitter on and on to You in praise,
Just like the green and rosy angels that
Spread out their wings upon my window flat.
I’ve never yet been bitten by the snake,
Despite the abhorrence for him I make,
Despite the free way humankind will spill
The lips and tongue with every kind of ill.
Keep me, Beloved, within the angels’ song
To speak the good and to avoid the wrong,
If I must flap my jaws and fingers bare
In jingles to Your praise on empty air.

15 Fools’ labour shall disturb the ones
Who don’t know the way or the runs
Into the city on their buns.
16 Woe, land, when your king is a child,
When princes from the dawn run wild.
17 Blessed is the land whose king is great,
Whose princes only eat in state
And not in riotous rebate.
18 By sloth a building is brought down,
Through weakness of hands in the town,
The house shall leak like sieve for crown.
19 For mirth men make their bread, and wine
That living and feasting be fine,
But all things obey money’s line.
20 Don’t curse the king even in thought,
Nor rich men at your chamber pot,
Because the birds upon the air
Will carry your voice everywhere,
And the winged messenger will tell
Everything you uttered pell-mell.

I’ve criticized the governor and those
Who lobby him with all the wealth he chose,
While at my window birds come to repose
And listen to the words that from me rose.
I take back all the comments I have made
Against the priests and presidents waylaid,
And beg pardon that I let justice blind
Me to the power of gold upon the rind.
Beloved, let all the curious men of state
Forgive my words of injudicious weight,
And grant me dispensation at the gate
Of Buchenwald and Auschwitz. Rather give
Free meals left from Treblinka. Let me live!
I promise to say “sieg heil” at fast rate.

ECCLESIASTES 11

1 Just cast your bread upon the waters,
And after many days and slaughters,
It shall return to you like daughters.
2 Give portions to seven or eight,
For you don’t know the evil fate
That may come on earth while you wait.
3 When clouds are full they pour out rain
Upon the earth. If a tree’s fain
To fall to southward or to gain
The north side, wherever it falls,
There shall it lie beneath the walls.
4 The one who waits for a good wind
Will not sow, and the one who’s ginned
To watch for clear weather shall not
Come out to reap his ripened plot.
5 As you do not know how the wind
Comes or how the bones joined and binned
Together in the womb of one
That’s pregnant, till it’s formed and done
You do not know the works of God,
Who’s maker of all on the sod.
6 But sow your seed by morning light,
And in the evening let no spite
Keep your hand from the task, for you
Do not know which will come to view,
But if both, it’s a better stew.
7 The light is sweet and it’s delight
To see the sun come into sight.
8 If a man lives for many years,
And has rejoiced beyond his tears,
He must remember the dark time
And many days done without rhyme,
Which when they come all the things past
Shall be accused of a vain blast.
9 Rejoice then, young man, in your youth,
And let your heart rest in the truth,
And walk in the ways of your heart,
And in the sight of your eyes’ part,
And know that for all these things God
Will take you to account by rod.
10 Remove the anger from your heart,
And put away the fleshly start
Of evil, for both youth and pleasure
Are vain treasure in every measure.

I lay the anger from my heart as I
Learn from the years of living on the sly
That nothing wins, neither the hand that waits
In patience nor the loud mouth that berates.
I lay the wrath out from my path and dream
No more of vengeance on the hand extreme
That tears the peach down from the silver bough
And casts the shimmered leaves into the slough.
Beloved, though venging wrath is Yours alone,
I see that You hesitate to the bone
To cast on wicked men their load of fate.
I learn the divine heart come as Your mate.
The terror seeps at last from marrow’s heart
And praise alone becomes my single art.

ECCLESIASTES 12

1 Remember your Creator when
You are still young and in the den,
Before times of distress arrive,
And the years come when you contrive
To say no fun to be alive.
2 Before the sun, before the light,
Before the moon and stars for spite
Be darkened and the clouds return
After the rain; 3 when keepers spurn
The household toil, and strong men quake,
And grinders be idle in wake
Of few in number, and they who
Look through the windows find the view
In darkness; 4 And they shut the doors
In the street, and the one who pours
The voice in copulation’s scores
Is silenced to a whimper, and
They start in fear to hear a band
Of sparrows, and the ears that heard
Sweet music are no longer stirred.
5 And they shall fear high things above,
They’ll startle in the path of dove,
While almond tree shall blossom fair,
And locusts made fat on the share,
And caper tree shall be destroyed,
Because the man there once employed
Shall enter the house of his time
And his eternity to rhyme
Of mourners on the street to climb.
6 Before the silver cord is split,
The golden fillet shrink from it,
The pitcher be crushed at the well,
The wheel be broken from the bell
Upon the cistern, 7 And the dust
Return to earth from whence it must,
And breath return to God in trust.

As in the very start of Your clear word
The soul is made of earth when it is stirred
With breath of life from Your lips bent to kiss,
So when the kiss is done, I come to miss
Life and my body goes down to the grave,
The earth to earth, the slave to swollen slave,
And my breath shall return, Beloved, to You,
Where glory may rend through the veil in view,
And sleep and slumber of this earthly life
Shall be replaced by conscience without strife
Awaiting the day when again You bring
The breath out once more where I stop to sing
Before the judgement seat, before the throne
Where life and grace are Yours and Yours alone.

8 “The vanity of vanities,”
Says preacher ecclesiastes,
“All things are merely vanities.”
9 And since the preacher, he was wise,
He taught the people all the prize,
And declared the things he had done,
And seeking out, and semblance won.
10 He sought words of profit and wrote
The words as right and truthful quote.
11 The words of the wise are like goads,
And nails to fasten their abodes,
Which by the counsel set and stirred
Are released from the one shepherd.
12 More than these, my son, don’t require.
There’s no end to books on the wire,
And much study is a distress
To the flesh and the mind in dress.
13 Let us all hear together now
The conclusion of speech’s how.
Fear God and keep His commandments,
For this is all a man presents.
14 And all things that are done God brings
Into the judgement all that stings,
Whether it be for good that sings
Or for ill at His ponderings.

The book of the preacher is fraught
With sayings hard and to be bought,
But at the end I see the light,
There is no greater thing in sight,
And all the need and all the fright
Of many books need not be taken
To thought, but all else just forsaken
But this one word, that man obey
The ten commandments in their sway
And nothing more is needed here
To wait the judgement without fear.
Beloved, I take hold of the true
And come with praise and plaint to You,
Petition and penitence too.

AUTHOR: THOMAS G. MCELWAIN

Copyright © 2007 Adams & McElwain Publishers and Thomas McElwain First Published in two volumes, The Beloved and I 2005, and Led of the Beloved, 2006. Second Edition, 2010 Third and revised edition, 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this verse commentary on the sacred Scriptures may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from publisher.

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