Translations
The years of our lives number seventy — eighty if we are strong — yet even their finest is only toil and sorrow; they pass in a breath, and we fly away.
The span of our years is seventy — or eighty, if by strength — yet their pride is but toil and trouble; they pass swiftly and we fly away.
The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty if we are strong—yet their pride is but labor and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

