6 My days go by more quickly than a weaver’s shuttle,+

And they come to an end without hope.+

 7 Remember that my life is wind,+

That my eye will never again see happiness.*

15 As for mortal man, his days are like those of grass;+

He blooms like a blossom of the field.+

16 But when a wind blows, it is no more,

As though it was never there.*