מַה־בְּ֭רִי וּמַֽה־בַּר־בִּטְנִ֑י וּ֝מֶה בַּר־נְדָרָֽי׃
Cóż mi ci powiedzieć, synu mój? Cóż synu mojego łona? Cóż mi ci powiedzieć synu, dla któregom tyle ślubów poczyniła?
Ecclesiastes
And more than they [("righteous writ” 12:10)], my son, take heed [to heed the words of the sages. And if you ask: If there is need of them, why were they not written down?] In the making of books there is no end [and if we began, we could never finish.]; and overmuch thought [i.e., attempts to digest more than we can understand] is a weariness of the flesh.