I looked again and saw the tears of people Crushed beneath the power of another hand. No comforter was standing with the wounded; Strength belonged to those who made them bend. I thought the dead more fortunate than living, And the unborn spared from seeing evil done. I saw that labor often grows from envy, One hand reaching for another person's place. The fool folds both his hands and wastes away, Yet endless striving also feeds on air. One handful held with quietness is better Than two hands full of wind and restless work. Two are better than one; Their labor carries greater reward. If one should fall, the other lifts him; Woe to the one who falls alone. Two can lie together and find warmth; One can stand where one would be overpowered. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken; A poor but wise young person may be better Than an aging king who will not hear correction. Crowds may follow every rising ruler, Yet those who come behind will soon forget. This also fades like vapor in the wind.