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128 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1201
“I will reveal to you a mystery, I will tell you a secret of the gods.”
"لأنه ليس من قدر الإنسان أن يحيا إلى الأبد ولكن لإنجازاته أن تخلد اسمه للأجيال اللاحقة"
"As for human beings, their days are numbered, and only their achievements that could establish their name to the latter generations."
‘O man of Shuruppak, son of Ubar-Tutu,
demolish the house, and build a boat!
Abandon wealth, and seek survival!
Spurn property, save life!
Take on board the boat all living things' seed!’
***
‘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, who hacks men down.’
***
'Ever do we build our households,
ever do we make our nests,
ever do brothers divide their inheritance,
ever do feuds arise in the land.'
***
'Ever the river has risen and brought us the flood,
the mayfly floating on the water.
On the face of the sun its countenance gazes,
then all of a sudden nothing is there!’
„Hangița zise către el, către Ghilgameș:
Ghilgameș, încotro alergi tu?
Viața [veșnică] pe care o urmărești tu nu se găsește.
Cînd zeii au plăsmuit omenirea,
Moartea au destinat-o ei pentru lume,
Viața [veșnică] și-au păstrat-o doar pentru ei.
Tu, Ghilgameș, satură-ți pîntecele
Fii vesel ziua și noaptea.
În fiecare zi fă o sărbătoare de petrecere,
În fiecare noapte cîntă și joacă!” (tăblița a X-a).
„Pe cel care a căzut de pe catarg l-ai văzut? L-am văzut.
Abia i-au fost scoase cuiele...
Pe cel care a murit de moarte năprasnică l-ai văzut? L-am văzut.
El stă pe culcuș de noapte și bea apă curată.
Pe cel care a fost ucis în luptă l-ai văzut? L-am văzut.
Tatăl său și mama sa i-au ridicat capul, iar soția lui a plîns pentru el, a plîns pentru el...
Pe cel al cărui suflet n-are pe nimeni să se îngrijească l-ai văzut? L-am văzut.
El mănîncă resturile oalei, firimituri de pîine ce se-aruncă în stradă...”.
It is an old storyThe Epic of Gilgamesh is the world’s oldest work of literature, dating back at least to 2,000 B.C. It is the story of Gilgamesh, the king of Uruk, who becomes best friends with Enkidu. They travel to the Cedar Forest and kill a monster named Humbaba, and soon thereafter also kill the Bull of Heaven to protect Uruk. But when Enkidu dies, Gilgamesh is so distraught that he crosses the Waters of Death to try to find the secret to eternal life to bring back Enkidu.
But one that can still be told
About a man who loved
And lost a friend to death
And learned he lacked the power
To bring him back to life.
It is the story of Gilgamesh
And his friend Enkidu.
— Gilgamesh: A Verse Narrative
It is that inner atmosphere that hasThe Epic of Gilgamesh is a foundational work of literature. It may be a source or inspiration for numerous biblical stories, from Noah and the great flood to the idea of treacherous snakes. It’s a tale about friendship, death, grief, and living after loss—fundamental experiences of being alive. I’d recommend reading Gilgamesh: A Verse Narrative first or alongside The Epic of Gilgamesh to get the fullest emotional punch from the story. Recommended.
An unfamiliar gravity or none at all
Where words are flung out in the air but stay
Motionless without an answer,
Hovering about one’s lips
Or arguing back to haunt
The memory with what one failed to say,
Until one learns acceptance of the silence
Amidst the new debris
Or turns again to grief
As the only source of privacy,
Alone with someone loved.
From the day of his birth Gilgamesh was called by name.This translation, the edition I used when I was first studying the Epic (my copy has so many notes and highlights scribbled in it that it’s nigh-unreadable at this point), is the best translation of the Epic by a long shot. It preserves the columnal structure of the original tablets, and after each column is included a section of commentary discussing the context and missing pieces, commentary which is typically much longer than the actual text. Instead of filling in the holes where the clay tablets have broken or been lost, as other translators tend to do, John Gardner and John Maier enclose the empty spaces in brackets, and offer a range of possible “solutions” in the notes on each section. This results in a frustratingly fragmentary experience; for example, here’s the entirety of III.V as it has been preserved in Akkadian cuneiform:
cedar forestOnly two cuneiform signs remain, at the very bottom of the column: the sign for a forest of cedar trees, and the third-person plural active of “to kill.” The presumed context is the preparation for the attack on Humbaba.
they kill
Romantic love has maintained such a pull on romances that since the Middle Ages stories of heroic adventure seem strangely incomplete without a woman for the hero to rescue and, usually, marry. (…) But in a different way, Gilgamesh is very much a poem of love. No sooner do the men fight than they become friends. (…) The disintegration of Gilgamesh upon the death of Enkidu plays out the grief in narrative terms as well. Nowhere else is the identification between lover and loved so strong as in Gilgamesh’s attempt to become Enkidu. When, in Tablet XII, Gilgamesh tries to embrace the ghost of Enkidu but cannot, the reality of death as separation settles in at last. (…) In Gilgamesh, the pain of love and loss is the defining feature of humanity.Sorry. That got sad quickly.
The most powerful term used to express the relationship between Gilgamesh and Enkidu is ibru (see II.IV). The Chicago Assyrian Dictionary (CAD 7.6) cautions that the term was originally devoid of emotional connotations, and denoted an “institutionalized relationship between free persons of the same status or profession which entailed acceptance of the same code of behavior and an obligation of mutual assistance.” The gloss “friend” is better for the term with which ibru is sometimes linked, tappû. That Enkidu is an “equal” to the great Gilgamesh only strengthens the whole range of mutual obligations and ties all the imagery of friend, brother, lover, comrade and even “wife” together.Enkidu is compared to Gilgamesh’s “wife” a lot. His first introduction mentions “his head covered with hair like a woman’s” (I.II); Gilgamesh described embracing him “like a wife” (I.V); later, Gilgamesh veils Enkidu’s face “like a bride’s” (VIII.III). In fact, in I.V, Gilgamesh addresses his mother, Ninsun, saying:
Last night, Mother, I saw a dream.Ninsun responds:
There was a star in the heavens.
Like a shooting star of Anu it fell on me.
I tried to lift it; too much for me.
I tried to move it; I could not move it.
Uruk, the land, towered over it;
the people swarmed around it;
the people pressed themselves over it;
the men of the city massed above it;
companions kissed its feet.
I myself hugged him like a wife,
and I threw him down at your feet
so that you compared him with me.
The star of heaven is your companion,“Hugged” could also be “embraced,” a frequent euphemism for sexual intercourse, although the scene is homoerotic enough as it is. The commentary on this column notes that “the loving embrace is juxtaposed with competition (…). The competition-motif is set directly next to loving like a wife—but the emphasis is greatest on the last line of the column, presaging Gilgamesh’s love for Enkidu.” In the next column Gilgamesh repeats a similar dream, with an axe instead of a meteor, which he also embraces “like a wife” (I.VI). The words ibru and tappû are both used in these columns.
like a shooting star of Anu he falls on you;
you tried to lift it; too much for you;
you tried to move it; you were not able to move it;
you lay him down at my feet
so that I compared him with you;
like a wife you hugged him.
“What could I give you if I should take you as a wife?(He also calls her “a shoe that bites the owner’s foot.”)
Would I give you oil for the body, and fine wrappings?
Would I give you bread and victuals?—
you who eat food of the gods,
you who drink wine fit for royalty?
...
[For you] they pour out [libations];
[you are clothed with the Great] Garment.
[...] the gap [between us], if I take you in marriage!”
I [have been] to [you], Enkidu, your mother, your father; I will weep for you in the wilderness.Gilgamesh then addresses Enkidu(’s corpse) directly, once again calling him ibru, the same word used here to mean “my friend.” Then, in X.III:
For Enkidu, my friend, I weep like a wailing woman,
howling bitterly.
[He was] the axe at my side, the bow at my arm,
the dagger in my belt, the shield in front of me,
my festive garment, my splendid attire...
[…] my friend whom I love dearly underwent with me all hardships.Gilgamesh then asks, “How can I keep still? How can I be silent? / The friend I loved has turned to clay. Enkidu, the friend I love, has turned to clay.” This passage is repeated several times during this part of the story, which is hardly unusual for a narrative originally ensconced in oral tradition.
The fate of mankind overtook him.
Six days and seven nights I wept over him
until a worm fell out of his nose.
Then I was afraid.
My body, that gave your heart joy to touch,This passage is once again a juxtaposition, contrasting the “joy” of touching a living body with the process of the decomposition of a corpse.
vermin eat it up like old clothes.
My body, that gave your heart joy to touch,
is filled with dirt.