Invocation
He who saw the depths
the wellspring
the foundation
Who experienced all things
went everywhere
Saw the hidden
secret
Returned with word
from before the flood
Who made a distant journey
exhausted
in peace
Left his story
in stone
.He built the walls of Uruk-the-Sheepfold
Sacred Eanna
the storehouse
the sanctuary
See the upper wall gleam
the inner wall unequaled
Scale the ancient stone
stairs to Eanna
house of Ishtar
Unmatched by later kings
Study the foundations
the bricks
Kiln fired
laid by seven sages
A square sar each
of city
garden
and quarry
one half sar
Eanna
Three and a half sar square
Uruk
.Find the copper tablet box
Release its bronze lock
Raise the lid of secrets
Take and read the tablet of lapis lazuli
The travails of Gilgamesh
. . . . . . .
[The Dream of Enkidu]
Troubled
alone
Enkidu spoke to Gilgamesh:
‘My friend
I had a dream last night
The skies thundered
The earth echoed the call
And I was in between them
A man with a somber face
like Anzu
a lion-headed thunderbird
Frightening
His hands
the paws of a lion
His nails
eagle talons
Seized my hair
capsized me
like a raft
I struck him but he swung
Like a rope
Like a raft
He overturned me
like a bull
He trampled me
My body in a slaver
I cried out
‘Save me
my friend’
But you did not save me
You were afraid and did not save me
He turned me into a dove
Bound my limbs like a bird
Brought me to the house of darkness
seat of Irkalla
That none ever leave
Down the road
without return
To the house without lightWhere dust is food
And clay bread
Where they are clad as feathered birds
Dwelling in darkness
Dust thick on the door
I entered
Saw crowns in a heap
Those crowned who once ruled the lan
Once served roasts
breads and cool libations
To Anu and Enlil
I entered the house of dust
Of priests and acolytes
Prophets and mystics
Those who sang in praise of the gods
Old King Etana
Shakkan
The Queen of the Underworld
Ereshkigal
The scribe
Belet-seri
beside her
Holding a tablet
Reading it
Asking
‘Who brought this man?’
The day of the dream
His strength ran out
Enkidu on his sickbed
One day
Two days
Three days
Four days
Five days
Six days
Seven days
Enkidu worsened
Eight days
Nine days
Ten days
Enkidu worsened
Eleven days
Twelve daysEnkidu on his sickbed
Worsened
He called Gilgamesh:
‘My friendAgainst me
The greatest curse
I feared the fight
My friend in the fight
I …
The death of Enkidu
A note on the translation
It is very difficult to be both a poet and an historian.
Charles Olson, Mayan LettersThis new version of Gilgamesh should not be mistaken for a new scholarly translation of the ancient work. Rather, following Stephen Mitchell’s distinction between versions and translations, it is a new version of the text that aspires to be more faithful to the original texts, more thoroughly grounded in a wider range of scholarship, and more emotionally satisfying, in a deeper way than the other available versions. The originality of this Gilgamesh, I hope, consists in its poetics and theology rather than in its philology, which derives from the work of the leading scholars of ancient Mesopotamian life and language.
Composed, copied, and passed down over more than 2,500 years, the Gilgamesh poems present a palimpsest of ancient Middle Eastern cultic and courtly lyrics and lore. Their earliest figures echo experiences that may be Paleolithic in origin. Their final transcriptions were transformations into Egyptian, Greek, Hebrew, and Islamic myths and scriptures. Modern scholarly translations of Gilgamesh often dilute the expressive force of the material through scrupulous erudition or textual dispersion, providing too much information or too little. Modern popular versions frequently gloss over gaps in the text with accessible, ecumenical language. In this new version, I have attempted to inform the latest scholarship with a contemporary poetic sensibility, inspired by the pagan worldview of the ancient work. I have drawn upon transcriptions of all of the available tablets and tales to present a holistic Gilgamesh, which aspires to be true to the archaic mind.
Stuart Kendall
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