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Your ears will be deaf to the noise in the streets,
    and you will barely hear the millstone grinding grain.
You’ll wake up when a bird starts singing,
    but you will barely hear singing.
You will fear high places
    and will be afraid to go for a walk.
Your hair will become white like the flowers on an almond tree.
    You will limp along like a grasshopper when you walk.
    Your appetite will be gone.
Then you will go to your everlasting home,
    and people will go to your funeral.

Soon your life will snap like a silver chain
    or break like a golden bowl.
You will be like a broken pitcher at a spring,
    or a broken wheel at a well.

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