So my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labor under the sun For a person may work with wisdom, knowledge and skill And then they must leave all they own to another who has not toiled for it This too, is meaningless, and a great misfortune What do people get for all the toil and anxious striving with which they labor under the sun All their days, their work is grief and pain Even at night their minds do not rest This too is meaningless A person can do nothing better than to eat, and drink, and find satisfaction in their own toil This too I see, is from the hand of God for without Him Who can eat, or find enjoyment