Anyone born of woman is short of days and full of trouble.

“人为妇人所生，日子短少，多有患难；

“人为妇人所生，日子短少，多有患难。

“人为妇人所生，日子短少，多有患难。

“人为妇人所生，一生短暂，充满患难。

“妇人所生的日子短少，满有搅扰；

人為婦人所生，日子短少，多有患難；

「人為婦人所生，日子短少，多有患難。

「人為婦人所生，日子短少，多有患難。

「人為婦人所生，一生短暫，充滿患難。

“婦人所生的日子短少，滿有攪擾；

『婦人所生的人歲數短促，滿有煩擾。

由婦所生之人、時日短促、憂苦充盈、

人乃婦女誕育、既不永年、且多憂慮。

人乃婦人所生、年雖少而煩惱多、年雖少而煩惱多或作既不永年且多煩惱

“ Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.

Human beings have only a few days to live. Their lives are full of trouble.

“ Man who is born of a woman is few of days and full of trouble.

“ How frail is humanity! How short is life, how full of trouble!

“ Man, who is born of woman, Is short lived and full of turmoil.

“ Man who is born of woman Is of few days and full of trouble.

Man, that is born of a woman, Is of few days, and full of trouble.

Man born of woman is short of days and full of trouble.

Man[ that is] born of a woman[ is] of few days, and full of trouble.

“ Man, born of woman, lives but a few days, and they are full of trouble.

“ Man, who is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble.

But humans are born for trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.

How can a human be justified before God? How can one born of woman be pure?

For all his days are filled with grief, and his occupation is sorrowful; even at night, his mind does not rest. This too is futile.

Jacob said to Pharaoh,“ My pilgrimage has lasted 130 years. My years have been few and hard, and they have not reached the years of my ancestors during their pilgrimages.”

Isn’t each person consigned to forced labor on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired worker?

“ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one greater than John the Baptist has appeared, but the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

In fact, you have made my days just inches long, and my life span is as nothing to you. Yes, every human being stands as only a vapor. Selah

Indeed, I was guilty when I was born; I was sinful when my mother conceived me.

Therefore, I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me. For everything is futile and a pursuit of the wind.

My days fly by faster than a runner; they flee without seeing any good.

What is a mere human, that he should be pure, or one born of a woman, that he should be righteous?

My days pass more swiftly than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.