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kingofallkings) wrote2015-07-04 02:48 pm
kingofallkings) wrote2015-07-04 02:48 pm
Epic X: At the Edge of the World❋
At the Edge of the World
Shiduri was a tavern-keeper who lived by the sea-shore,
There she dwelt, in an inn by the sea-shore.
Potstands she had, and vats all of gold,
She was swathed in hoods and veiled with veils.
Gilgamesh came wandering, [stirring and pacing],
Clad only in lionskin, and fearful to look on.
The flesh of the gods he had in his body,
But in his heart he had only sorrow.
His face resembled one come from afar.
As the tavern-keeper watched him in the distance,
Talking to herself she spoke a word,
Taking counsel in her own mind:
'For sure this man is a hunter of wild bulls,
But where does he come from, making straight for my gate?'
Thus the tavern-keeper saw him, and barred her gate,
Barred her gate and went up on the roof.
But Gilgamesh noticed her,
He lifted his chin, and turned towards her.
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Tavern-keeper, why did you bar your gate as soon as you saw me?
'You barred your gate, and went up on the roof.
I shall smash down the door, I shall shatter the bolts!'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'[It's true,] I barred my gate. I went up on the roof.
[If you aren't a brigand], let me learn of your journey.'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'My friend Enkidu and I [met in my city.]
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes.'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'If you are truly Gilgamesh, King of Uruk -
If you and Enkidu were the ones who slew the Guardian,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes,
Seized and slew the Bull come down from heaven -
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.'
She answered, 'Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to?
You will never find that life for which you are looking.
When the gods created man they allotted to him death,
But life they retained in their own keeping.
'As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things;
Day and night, night and day, dance and be merry,
Feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh,
Bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand,
And make your wife happy in your embrace;
For this too is the lot of man.'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'O tavern-keeper, why do you talk this way?
How can I keep silent? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Now, O tavern-keeper, where is the road to Uta-napishti?
What is its landmark? Tell me! Give me its landmark!
If it may be done, I will cross the ocean,
If it may not be done, I will wander the wild!'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'O Gilgamesh, there never has been a way across,
Nor since olden days can anyone cross the ocean.
Only Shamash the hero crosses the ocean:
Apart from the Sun God, who crosses the ocean?
'The crossing is perilous, its way full of hazard,
And midway lie the Waters of Death, blocking the passage forward.
So besides, Gilgamesh, once you have crossed the ocean,
when you reach the Waters of Death, what then will you do?
'Gilgamesh, there is Ur-shanabi, the boatman of Uta-napishti,
And the Stone Ones are with him, as he picks a pine clean in the midst of the forest.
Go then, let him see your face!
If it may be done, go across with him,
If it may not be done, turn around and go back!'
Gilgamesh heard these words,
He took up his axe in his hand,
He drew forth the dirk from his belt.
Forward he crept and on them rushed down.
Like an arrow he fell among them,
In the midst of the forest his shout resounded.
Ur-shanabi looked up and drew his sword.
He took up an axe, and he approached him.
But he, Gilgamesh, struck his head.
He seized his arm and pinned him down.
They took fright, the Stone Ones, who crewed the boat,
Who were not harmed by the Waters of Death.
At the waters, Gilgamesh, he stayed not his hand:
He smashed them in his fury, he threw them in the river.
He came back to stand over him,
As Ur-shanabi looked him in the eye.
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Tell me, what is your name?
I am Ur-shanabi, of 'Uta-napishti the Distant.'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Ur-shanabi:
'Gilgamesh is my name, who came from Uruk-Eanna,
Who wound a way around the mountains,
The hidden road where rises the sun.'
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
'Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to the boatman Ur-shanabi:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes.
'My friend, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.
'How can I keep silent? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Ur-shanabi, the boatman:
'Now, Ur-shanabi, where is the road to Uta-napishti?
What is its landmark? Tell me! Give me its landmark!
If it may be done, I will cross the ocean,
if it may not be done, I will wander the wild!'
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Your own hands, O Gilgamesh, have prevented your crossing:
You smashed the Stone Ones, threw them in the river,
The Stone Ones are smashed, and the pine is not stripped.
'Take Up, O Gilgamesh, your axe in your hand,
Go down to the forest and cut three hundred punting-poles,
Each five rods in length. trim them and furnish them each with a boss,
Then bring them here into my presence.'
Gilgamesh heard these words, he took up his axe in his hand,
He drew forth the dirk from his belt,
He went down to the forest and cut three hundred
Punting-poles, each five rods in length.
He trimmed them and furnished them each with a boss,
Then he brought them to Ur-shanabi, the boatman.
Gilgamesh and Ur-shanabi crewed the boat,
They launched the craft, and crewed it themselves.
In three days they made a journey of a month and a half,
And Ur-shanabi came to the Waters of Death.
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Set to, O Gilgamesh! Take the first punting-pole!
Let your hand not touch the Waters of Death, lest you wither it!
'Take a second punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a third and a fourth!
Take a fifth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a sixth and a seventh!
Take an eighth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a ninth and a tenth!
Take an eleventh punting-pole, Gilgamesh, and a twelfth!'
At one hundred and twenty double-furlongs Gilgamesh had used all
The punting-poles, so he, Ur-shanabi, undid his clothing,
Gilgamesh stripped off his garment,
With arms held aloft he made a yard-arm.
Uta-napishti was watching Gilgamesh in the distance,
Talking to himself he spoke a word,
Taking counsel in his own mind:
'Why are the boat's Stone Ones all broken,
And aboard it one who is not its master?
'He who comes is no man of mine,
I am looking, but he is no man of mine.'
Said Uta-napishti to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so] sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
'Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble] one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Uta-napishti:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in [the mountain passes.
'My friend, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.
How can I keep still? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
'My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Uta -napishti:
'I thought, "I will find Uta-napishti the Distant, of whom men tell,"
And I wandered journeying through every land.
Many times I passed through terrible mountains,
Many times I crossed and recrossed all the oceans.
'Of slumber sweet my face had too litle,
I scourged myself by going sleepless.
I have filled my sinews with sorrow,
And what have I achieved by my toil?
'I made a poor impression on the tavern-keeper, my clothing was worn out.
I killed bear, hyena, lion, panther, cheetah,
Deer, ibex, the beasts and game of the wild:
I ate their flesh, their pelts I flayed.
'Now let the gate of sorrow be barred,
Let its door be sealed with tar and pitch,
For my sake they shall interrupt the dancing no more,
My own misfortunes have reduced me to misery.'
Said Uta-napishti to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why, Gilgamesh, do you ever chase sorrow?
You, who are built from gods' flesh and human,
Whom the gods did fashion like your father and mother!
'Did you ever, Gilgamesh, compare your lot with the fool?
They placed a throne in the assembly, and told you, "Sit!"
The fool gets left-over yeast instead of fresh ghee,
Bran and grist instead of best flour.
'He is clad in a rag, instead of fine garments,
Instead of a belt, he is girt with old rope.
Because he has no advisers to guide him,
His affairs lack counsel [and he flails about].
'Have thought for him, Gilgamesh, [The King],
Who is their master [...]?
If, Gilgamesh, the temples of the gods have no provisioner,
The temples of the goddesses [will fall into ruin].
'Enkidu indeed they took to his fate.
But you, you toiled away, and what did you achieve?
You have made yourself weary for lack of sleep,
You only fill your flesh with grief.
'You only bring closer the end of your days.
Mankind's fame is cut down like reeds in a reed-bed.
The comely young man, the pretty young woman -
All too soon in their prime Death abducts them!
'No one at all sees Death,
No one at all sees the face of Death,
No one at all hears the voice of Death,
Death, so savage, just hacks men down.
'Sometimes we build a house, sometimes we make a nest,
But then brothers divide it upon inheritance.
Sometimes there is hostility in the land,
But then the river rises and brings flood-water.
'Dragonflies drift on the surface of rivers,
Their faces look upon the face of the Sun ,
Then all of a sudden nothing is there!
Then all of a sudden nothing is there.
'The sleeping and the dead are just like each other,
But Death's picture cannot be drawn.
Never in the land did the dead greet a man.
'The Anunnaki, the great gods, assembled
Mammitum who creates fate decreed destinies with them.
They appointed death and life.
They did not mark out days for death,
But they did so for life.'
SYNOPSIS: Gilgamesh meets Shiduri and tells him of his grief. She tells him, in turn, how to find the boatman who travels to Ut-Napishtim over the Water of Death. Gilgamesh finds him and smashes the Stone Ones around him. When asked why, he explains his story and the boatman tells him he ruined his own chances by destroying the Stone oarsmen. Gilgamesh cuts new oars and the two row across to Ut-Napishtim together. He tells Ut-Napishtim his story and his quest, and Ut-Napishtim counsels him on grief, on death, and on life.
There she dwelt, in an inn by the sea-shore.
Potstands she had, and vats all of gold,
She was swathed in hoods and veiled with veils.
Gilgamesh came wandering, [stirring and pacing],
Clad only in lionskin, and fearful to look on.
The flesh of the gods he had in his body,
But in his heart he had only sorrow.
His face resembled one come from afar.
As the tavern-keeper watched him in the distance,
Talking to herself she spoke a word,
Taking counsel in her own mind:
'For sure this man is a hunter of wild bulls,
But where does he come from, making straight for my gate?'
Thus the tavern-keeper saw him, and barred her gate,
Barred her gate and went up on the roof.
But Gilgamesh noticed her,
He lifted his chin, and turned towards her.
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Tavern-keeper, why did you bar your gate as soon as you saw me?
'You barred your gate, and went up on the roof.
I shall smash down the door, I shall shatter the bolts!'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'[It's true,] I barred my gate. I went up on the roof.
[If you aren't a brigand], let me learn of your journey.'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'My friend Enkidu and I [met in my city.]
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes.'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'If you are truly Gilgamesh, King of Uruk -
If you and Enkidu were the ones who slew the Guardian,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes,
Seized and slew the Bull come down from heaven -
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.'
She answered, 'Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to?
You will never find that life for which you are looking.
When the gods created man they allotted to him death,
But life they retained in their own keeping.
'As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things;
Day and night, night and day, dance and be merry,
Feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh,
Bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand,
And make your wife happy in your embrace;
For this too is the lot of man.'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'O tavern-keeper, why do you talk this way?
How can I keep silent? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to her, to the tavern-keeper:
'Now, O tavern-keeper, where is the road to Uta-napishti?
What is its landmark? Tell me! Give me its landmark!
If it may be done, I will cross the ocean,
If it may not be done, I will wander the wild!'
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh:
'O Gilgamesh, there never has been a way across,
Nor since olden days can anyone cross the ocean.
Only Shamash the hero crosses the ocean:
Apart from the Sun God, who crosses the ocean?
'The crossing is perilous, its way full of hazard,
And midway lie the Waters of Death, blocking the passage forward.
So besides, Gilgamesh, once you have crossed the ocean,
when you reach the Waters of Death, what then will you do?
'Gilgamesh, there is Ur-shanabi, the boatman of Uta-napishti,
And the Stone Ones are with him, as he picks a pine clean in the midst of the forest.
Go then, let him see your face!
If it may be done, go across with him,
If it may not be done, turn around and go back!'
Gilgamesh heard these words,
He took up his axe in his hand,
He drew forth the dirk from his belt.
Forward he crept and on them rushed down.
Like an arrow he fell among them,
In the midst of the forest his shout resounded.
Ur-shanabi looked up and drew his sword.
He took up an axe, and he approached him.
But he, Gilgamesh, struck his head.
He seized his arm and pinned him down.
They took fright, the Stone Ones, who crewed the boat,
Who were not harmed by the Waters of Death.
At the waters, Gilgamesh, he stayed not his hand:
He smashed them in his fury, he threw them in the river.
He came back to stand over him,
As Ur-shanabi looked him in the eye.
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Tell me, what is your name?
I am Ur-shanabi, of 'Uta-napishti the Distant.'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Ur-shanabi:
'Gilgamesh is my name, who came from Uruk-Eanna,
Who wound a way around the mountains,
The hidden road where rises the sun.'
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
'Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to the boatman Ur-shanabi:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in the mountain passes.
'My friend, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.
'How can I keep silent? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Ur-shanabi, the boatman:
'Now, Ur-shanabi, where is the road to Uta-napishti?
What is its landmark? Tell me! Give me its landmark!
If it may be done, I will cross the ocean,
if it may not be done, I will wander the wild!'
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Your own hands, O Gilgamesh, have prevented your crossing:
You smashed the Stone Ones, threw them in the river,
The Stone Ones are smashed, and the pine is not stripped.
'Take Up, O Gilgamesh, your axe in your hand,
Go down to the forest and cut three hundred punting-poles,
Each five rods in length. trim them and furnish them each with a boss,
Then bring them here into my presence.'
Gilgamesh heard these words, he took up his axe in his hand,
He drew forth the dirk from his belt,
He went down to the forest and cut three hundred
Punting-poles, each five rods in length.
He trimmed them and furnished them each with a boss,
Then he brought them to Ur-shanabi, the boatman.
Gilgamesh and Ur-shanabi crewed the boat,
They launched the craft, and crewed it themselves.
In three days they made a journey of a month and a half,
And Ur-shanabi came to the Waters of Death.
Said Ur-shanabi to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Set to, O Gilgamesh! Take the first punting-pole!
Let your hand not touch the Waters of Death, lest you wither it!
'Take a second punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a third and a fourth!
Take a fifth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a sixth and a seventh!
Take an eighth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a ninth and a tenth!
Take an eleventh punting-pole, Gilgamesh, and a twelfth!'
At one hundred and twenty double-furlongs Gilgamesh had used all
The punting-poles, so he, Ur-shanabi, undid his clothing,
Gilgamesh stripped off his garment,
With arms held aloft he made a yard-arm.
Uta-napishti was watching Gilgamesh in the distance,
Talking to himself he spoke a word,
Taking counsel in his own mind:
'Why are the boat's Stone Ones all broken,
And aboard it one who is not its master?
'He who comes is no man of mine,
I am looking, but he is no man of mine.'
Said Uta-napishti to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why are your cheeks so hollow, your face so] sunken,
Your mood so wretched, your visage so wasted?
'Why in your heart does sorrow reside,
And your face resemble] one come from afar?
Why are your features burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And why do you wander the wild in lion's garb?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Uta-napishti:
'Why should my cheeks not be hollow, my face not sunken,
My mood not wretched, my visage not wasted?
'Should not sorrow reside in my heart,
And my face not resemble one come from afar?
Should not my features be burnt by frost and by sunshine,
And should I not wander the wild in lion's garb?
'My friend, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much,
Having joined forces we climbed the mountains,
Seized and slew the Bull of Heaven,
Destroyed Humbaba, who dwelt in the Forest of Cedar,
Killed lions in [the mountain passes.
'My friend, whom I loved so much,
Who went with me through every hardship...
My friend, Enkidu, panther of the wild, whom I loved so much
Who went with me through every hardship...
'The doom of mortals overtook him.
Six days I wept for him and seven nights.
I did not surrender his body for burial.
I thought my friend would come back because of my weeping.
Until a maggot dropped from his nose.
'Then I was afraid that I too would die,
I grew fearful of death, and so wander the wild.
What became of my friend was too much to bear,
So on a far road I wander the wild;
What became of my friend Enkidu was too much to bear,
So on a far path I wander the wild.
How can I keep still? How can I stay quiet?
Since he went, my life is nothing.
'My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay,
My friend Enkidu, whom I loved, has turned to clay.
Shall I not be like him, and also lie down,
Never to rise again, through all eternity?'
Said Gilgamesh to him, to Uta -napishti:
'I thought, "I will find Uta-napishti the Distant, of whom men tell,"
And I wandered journeying through every land.
Many times I passed through terrible mountains,
Many times I crossed and recrossed all the oceans.
'Of slumber sweet my face had too litle,
I scourged myself by going sleepless.
I have filled my sinews with sorrow,
And what have I achieved by my toil?
'I made a poor impression on the tavern-keeper, my clothing was worn out.
I killed bear, hyena, lion, panther, cheetah,
Deer, ibex, the beasts and game of the wild:
I ate their flesh, their pelts I flayed.
'Now let the gate of sorrow be barred,
Let its door be sealed with tar and pitch,
For my sake they shall interrupt the dancing no more,
My own misfortunes have reduced me to misery.'
Said Uta-napishti to him, to Gilgamesh:
'Why, Gilgamesh, do you ever chase sorrow?
You, who are built from gods' flesh and human,
Whom the gods did fashion like your father and mother!
'Did you ever, Gilgamesh, compare your lot with the fool?
They placed a throne in the assembly, and told you, "Sit!"
The fool gets left-over yeast instead of fresh ghee,
Bran and grist instead of best flour.
'He is clad in a rag, instead of fine garments,
Instead of a belt, he is girt with old rope.
Because he has no advisers to guide him,
His affairs lack counsel [and he flails about].
'Have thought for him, Gilgamesh, [The King],
Who is their master [...]?
If, Gilgamesh, the temples of the gods have no provisioner,
The temples of the goddesses [will fall into ruin].
'Enkidu indeed they took to his fate.
But you, you toiled away, and what did you achieve?
You have made yourself weary for lack of sleep,
You only fill your flesh with grief.
'You only bring closer the end of your days.
Mankind's fame is cut down like reeds in a reed-bed.
The comely young man, the pretty young woman -
All too soon in their prime Death abducts them!
'No one at all sees Death,
No one at all sees the face of Death,
No one at all hears the voice of Death,
Death, so savage, just hacks men down.
'Sometimes we build a house, sometimes we make a nest,
But then brothers divide it upon inheritance.
Sometimes there is hostility in the land,
But then the river rises and brings flood-water.
'Dragonflies drift on the surface of rivers,
Their faces look upon the face of the Sun ,
Then all of a sudden nothing is there!
Then all of a sudden nothing is there.
'The sleeping and the dead are just like each other,
But Death's picture cannot be drawn.
Never in the land did the dead greet a man.
'The Anunnaki, the great gods, assembled
Mammitum who creates fate decreed destinies with them.
They appointed death and life.
They did not mark out days for death,
But they did so for life.'
SYNOPSIS: Gilgamesh meets Shiduri and tells him of his grief. She tells him, in turn, how to find the boatman who travels to Ut-Napishtim over the Water of Death. Gilgamesh finds him and smashes the Stone Ones around him. When asked why, he explains his story and the boatman tells him he ruined his own chances by destroying the Stone oarsmen. Gilgamesh cuts new oars and the two row across to Ut-Napishtim together. He tells Ut-Napishtim his story and his quest, and Ut-Napishtim counsels him on grief, on death, and on life.