Gilgamesh

  Why are your eyes so sunken, your cheeks hollow?

  Why are you so sorrowful and look so bad,

  Like someone who comes from far away,

  Your skin sunburnt, your face frost-bitten?

  And why do you wander the wild in lion skins?”

  And Gilgamesh said to the tavern-keeper:

  [40] “Should my eyes not be sunken, my cheeks hollow?

  Should I not be sorrowful and look so bad,

  Like someone who comes from far away,

  My skin sunburnt and my face frostbitten?

  Should I not wander the wilderness in lion skins?

  My friend, who was like a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild,

  My friend Enkidu, a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild,

  My beloved friend, so dear to me,

  {64} [50] Who was with me in every peril,

  My friend Enkidu, whom I loved so much,

  Who was with me in every peril,

  Death has overtaken him, the doom of mortals.

  Six days and seven nights I mourned for him

  And did not give up his body for burial

  Until maggots were crawling out of his nostrils.

  Then I became afraid that I would die too,

  Terrified of death, and so I wander the wild.

  What happened to my friend was too much for me,

  [60] And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  What happened to Enkidu was too much for me,

  And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  How can I sit quietly, doing nothing?

  I loved my friend and he has turned into clay,

  My beloved Enkidu has turned into clay.

  Will I not be like him? Will I not lie down too

  And never rise again, lie down forever?”

  Gilgamesh paused, and then asked Shiduri:

  “And now, tavern-keeper, where is the road

  [70] To Utanapishtim? Where does it start?

  Tell me how to find it. Tell me!

  If there is a way, I will cross the ocean,

  If there is not, I will wander the wild.”

  And Shiduri the tavern-keeper:

  “O Gilgamesh, there is no way to cross it,

  No one has ever crossed the ocean.

  Only great Shamash crosses the ocean.

  Besides the Sun God who could ever cross it?

  It is a perilous crossing, full of danger,

  [80] Blocked in the middle by the Waters of Death.

  Even if you cross the ocean that far, Gilgamesh,

  {65} What will you do when you reach the Waters of Death?

  But over there, Gilgamesh, is Utanapishtim’s boatman,

  Urshanabi. With him are the Stone Ones

  As he trims pines in the middle of the forest.

  Go to see him, present yourself to him.

  Go across with him, if there is a way,

  And if not, turn around and come back.”

  As soon as Gilgamesh heard this

  [90] He picked up his axe and drew his dagger.

  He crept forward and then charged down,

  Falling on them like an arrow from a bow.

  His voice boomed through the forest.

  When Urshanabi saw the glint of a weapon

  He took out an axe himself,

  But Gilgamesh struck him on the head,

  Seized his arm and pushed him aside.

  The Stone Ones—who crewed the boat

  And were immune to the Waters of Death—

  [100] Panicked and fled. Gilgamesh cut them off

  On the Ocean’s shore and in his relentless fury

  Smashed them to pieces, which he threw into the water.

  Then he returned and stood over Urshanabi,

  Who looked Gilgamesh in the eye and said to him:

  “Tell me your name. I am Urshanabi,

  Boatman of Utanapishtim the Distant.”

  Gilgamesh said to Urshanabi:

  “My name is Gilgamesh.

  I have come from Uruk-Eanna

  [110] And found a way through the mountains,

  The hidden road of the Sun.”

  Then Urshanabi said to Gilgamesh:

  {66} “Why are your eyes so sunken, your cheeks hollow?

  Why are you so sorrowful and look so bad,

  Like someone who comes from far away,

  Your skin sunburnt, your face frost-bitten?

  And why do you wander the wild in lion skins?”

  And Gilgamesh said to Urshanabi the boatman:

  “Should my eyes not be sunken, my cheeks hollow?

  [120] Should I not be sorrowful and look so bad

  Like someone who comes from far away

  My skin sunburnt and my face frostbitten?

  Should I not wander the wild in lion skins?

  My friend, who was like a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild,

  My friend Enkidu, a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild—

  My friend Enkidu, he and I teamed up,

  We climbed mountains, we caught and killed

  [130] The Bull of Heaven, killed Humbaba too

  In the Cedar Forest, and lions up in the high passes—

  My beloved friend, so dear to me,

  Who was with me in every peril,

  My friend Enkidu, whom I loved so much,

  Who was with me in every peril,

  Death has overtaken him, the doom of mortals.

  Six days and seven nights I mourned for him

  And did not give up his body for burial

  Until maggots were crawling in his nostrils.

  [140] Then I became afraid that I would die too,

  Terrified of death, and so I wander the wild.

  What happened to my friend was too much for me,

  And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  What happened to Enkidu was too much for me,

  And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  How can I sit quietly, doing nothing?

  {67} I loved my friend and he has turned into clay,

  My beloved Enkidu has turned into clay.

  Will I not be like him? Will I not lie down too

  [150] And never rise again, lie down forever?”

  Gilgamesh paused, and then said to Urshanabi:

  “And now, Urshanabi, boatman, show me the way

  To Utanapishtim. Where does it start?

  Tell me how to find it. Tell me!

  If there is a way, I will cross the ocean,

  If there is not, I will wander the wild.”

  Then Urshanabi said to Gilgamesh:

  “Your own hands made your crossing impossible

  When you smashed the Stone Ones, Gilgamesh.

  [160] The Stone Ones are smashed, the pine untrimmed.

  Take your axe, Gilgamesh, and go down to the forest,

  Cut three hundred punting-poles, each five rods long.

  Trim them and put a boss on the end of each one,

  Then bring them back here and show them to me.”

  Gilgamesh heard this. He picked up his axe,

  Drew out his dagger and went down to the forest.

  He cut three hundred punting-poles, each five rods long,

  Trimmed them and put a boss on the end of each one,

  And then brought them to Urshanabi the boatman.

  [170] Gilgamesh and Urshanabi manned the boat,

  They launched it and crewed it all by themselves.

  A month and a half journey they made in three days,

  And when Urshanabi saw that they had reached

  The Waters of Death, he called to Gilgamesh:

  {68} “Now, Gilgamesh! Take the first punting-pole,

  And don’t touch the water or your hand will wither.

  Now a second punting-pole, Gilgame
sh, a third, a fourth!

  A fifth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a sixth, a seventh!

  An eighth punting-pole, Gilgamesh, a ninth, a tenth!

  [180] An eleventh punting-pole, Gilgamesh, and now a twelfth!”

  At a hundred and twenty double furlongs

  Gilgamesh had gone through all of the poles.

  Urshanabi then took off his clothing,

  And Gilgamesh did the same. Stretching out his arms

  Gilgamesh made them into a yard-arm to rig up a sail.

  Utanapishtim was watching all this from a distance,

  And when he saw Gilgamesh he said to himself,

  Trying to understand, turning it over in his mind:

  “Why are the ship’s Stone Ones all broken,

  [190] And who is this aboard, there on the right?

  I am looking hard at him. He is not a pilot,

  Not one of my men, this man in the boat.”

  When Gilgamesh was close to the dock

  He hailed Utanapishtim, addressing him

  As the hero who had survived the Deluge.

  And Utanapishtim said to Gilgamesh:

  “Why are your eyes so sunken, your cheeks hollow?

  Why are you so sorrowful and look so bad,

  Like someone who comes from far away,

  [200] Your skin sunburnt, your face frost-bitten?

  And why do you wander the wild in lion skins?”

  Then Gilgamesh said to Utanapishtim:

  {69} “Should my eyes not be sunken, my cheeks hollow?

  Should I not be sorrowful and look so bad

  Like someone who comes from far away

  My skin sunburnt and my face frostbitten?

  Should I not wander the wildnerness in lion skins?

  My friend, who was like a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild,

  [210] My friend Enkidu, a wild ass on the run,

  An upland donkey, a leopard in the wild—

  My friend Enkidu, he and I teamed up,

  We climbed mountains, we caught and killed

  The Bull of Heaven, killed Humbaba too

  In the Cedar Forest, and lions up in the high passes—

  My beloved friend, so dear to me,

  Who was with me in every peril,

  My friend Enkidu, whom I loved so much,

  Who was with me in every peril,

  [220] Death has overtaken him, the doom of mortals.

  Six days and seven nights I mourned for him

  And did not give up his body for burial

  Until maggots were crawling in his nostrils.

  Then I became afraid that I would die too,

  Terrified of death, and so I wander the wild.

  What happened to my friend was too much for me,

  And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  What happened to Enkidu was too much for me,

  And so I wander far, wander far in the wild.

  [230] How can I sit quietly, doing nothing?

  I loved my friend and he has turned into clay,

  My beloved Enkidu has turned into clay.

  Will I not be like him? Will I not lie down too

  And never rise again, lie down forever?”

  Gilgamesh paused, and then said to Utanapishtim:

  {70} “I said to myself, ‘I have heard men talk about

  Utanapishtim the Distant. I will go find him.’

  I climbed over many fearsome mountains,

  Crossed all the seas and crossed them again.

  [240] My eyes were never closed for long in sweet sleep;

  I ravaged my body by going without sleep.

  Every vein in my body is filled with grief,

  And what has it gotten me, all my hard trials?

  My clothes were worn before I reached the tavern-keeper.

  I killed bears, hyenas, lions and leopards,

  Deer and ibex, all the beasts of the wild,

  I ate their flesh, skinned them for their pelts.

  May the gate of sorrow now be barred,

  Sorrow’s door sealed tight with tar and pitch.

  [250] They will no longer stop dancing because of me.

  My people now will be happy for me.”

  Then Utanapishtim said to Gilgamesh:

  “Why do you always pursue sorrow, Gilgamesh,

  You whose flesh is both human and divine,

  Made by the gods like your father and mother?

  Have you ever compared yourself with a fool?

  They put a throne in the assembly and told you to sit.

  The fool gets leftovers instead of fresh ghee,

  Bran and chaff instead of fine flour.

  [260] He wears rags instead of nice clothes,

  Rags held up by a rope instead of a belt.

  He has no counselors to give him advice,

  So all his doings are poorly thought out.

  You should think about that, Gilgamesh.

  “And you should think about the gods, Gilgamesh,

  Who are always awake, awake and sleepless

  While the moon and stars move across the sky,

  And whose order is set from times of old.

  {71} How will you support them, Gilgamesh,

  [270] The temples of the gods and goddesses?

  “Yes, the gods bore Enkidu off to his doom.

  You endured hard trials, but what did you get?

  Exhaustion from all your grinding toil,

  Your veins and sinews throbbing with grief,

  Hastening your own doom, the end of your days.

  A man’s life is snapped off like a reed.

  The handsome young man, the beautiful girl,

  Death bears them away in the prime of life.

  No one ever sees Death, the face of Death,

  [280] And no one has ever heard the voice of Death,

  Death who so savagely mows men down.

  We found our households, build our abodes,

  Brothers divide their inheritance,

  Wars come and go across the land.

  The river rises and brings us floods,

  And floating on the water there is a mayfly.

  The mayfly gazes on the face of the sun,

  And then, in an instant, nothing is there.

  A dead man is like one who is abducted,

  [290] But no one has ever drawn the face of Death,

  And the dead never greet anyone on earth.

  The great gods, the Annunaki, met in assembly,

  And Mammitu with them established destiny.

  They established life and established Death,

  But never do they reveal the day of Death.”

  {72} Tablet XI

  Utanapishtim and the Flood

  Then Gilgamesh said to Utanapishtim

  In that most distant land:

  “When I look at you

  Utanapishtim, you seem no different from me.

  You are like me, and I am like you:

  My heart was set on making you fight,

  But now that I’ve met you, I stay my hand.

  How did you meet with all the gods?

  How did you gain eternal life?”

  Utanapishtim answered Gilgamesh,

  [10] “I will reveal a mystery to you, Gilgamesh,

  A secret of the gods. Shuruppak, the city

  On the Euphrates’ bank that you know well,

  Was from ancient days dear to the gods.

  The Great Ones were gathered there,

  Their hearts set on sending down the Flood.

  Their father, Anu, swore a great oath

  Along with Enlil, their counselor,

  And the court nobles Ninurta and Ennugi.

  Ea too was there and swore with them,

  [20] Repeating their words to a wall made of reeds:

  {73} ‘Wall of reeds, listen well, Wall.

  Listen well, Reed-wall, Wall hear my words.

  O man of Shuruppak, son of Ub
ar-Tutu,

  Tear down your house and build a boat;

  Abandon your wealth and strive for survival;

  Spurn your possessions and cling to life!

  Bring the seed of every living thing

  Aboard the boat, aboard the ark you will build.

  Build the ark square, length and width equal,

  [30] And roof it over as the Abyss is roofed.’

  “I understood, and said to Ea, my lord,

  ‘I understand, my lord, and will do as you say.

  But what do I say to the city and the elders?’

  “Ea opened his mouth and said to me, his servant,

  ‘Say this to them:

  “Enlil hates me,

  And so I cannot live in this city

  Or look upon the land that is Enlil’s.

  I am off to the Abyss to live with Ea my lord,

  And he will send you a plentiful rain

  [40] Full of birds and fish of all kinds,

  An abundance of riches; in the morning

  He will shower you with dark-baked bread,

  And rain down wheat on you in the evening.”

  “When dawn first glimmered in the sky

  The people assembled at Atrahasis’ door,

  Carpenters with their adzes, reed-workers,

  Old men bringing ropes, boys carrying pitch.

  By the fifth day I had the hull framed in,

  One acre in area and ten rods high,

  [50] And the sides also were ten rods long.

  {74} Then I laid out the design for all the rest.

  I put in six decks, which gave her seven levels,

  And divided the interior into nine sections.

  I put in bilge plugs amid-ship,

  Got punting poles and rigged up the ropes.

  I heated up thirty thousand measures of pitch

  And loaded on thirty thousand measures of tar.

  The porters brought thirty thousand measures of oil.

  Not counting the ten thousand we used for libations.

  [60] There were twenty thousand stowed away on board.

  I butchered oxen and lambs for my workers daily,

  Served them rivers of beer and ale, oil and wine,

  They feasted as if it were New Year festival days.

  I started applying the oil at the break of day