Post by Kagetsuki on Mar 14, 2008 22:11:31 GMT -5
Alright, this was an assignment for my English class. We read the Epic of Gilgamesh, and after we were done the teacher told us to write a continuation of the story...So here's the little addition I did. I was supposed to mimic the style of the version we read, which was very poetic and had a lot of similes and stuff. I hope I did it well. Enjoy, and sorry about the length, aha.
It would probably help if you've actually read/know about the story of Gilgamesh, but I suppose you could understand either way.
Also of note, the translation of Gilgamesh I'm mimicking here was very strange. It was in poetry format but had no rhythm; the stanzas didn't even have a set number of lines. I suppose "poetic" applies more to the similes and ideas within it...Obviously I couldn't at all mimic the philosophical ideas Foster slipped in, but I tried my best. Just wanted you all to know that in case you started reading and went "Hey this isn't poetry!" Haha. Now, enjoy.
--
V
Time passed.
The walls of Uruk saw, gradually,
New attention from the people
And from the king who had once let them decay,
As if his return was the herald of something new.
Gilgamesh was again a man alone,
But not so godlike as before,
His thoughts lifted from idleness
By the loss he had suffered.
His people saw the change,
Both good and bad;
They saw how he now cared for the things he had not,
But also the weight he seemed to carry now sometimes
When the ghost of something gone would dim his eyes
And still him.
Enkidu remained in the thoughts of Gilgamesh
For stretches of time that grew less and less,
He noticed,
But the memories still managed to bring back that tiredness
He’d felt so often when trying to bring him back
Every time they surfaced, like the gazelles of the Steppe
Which stop to rest and then bound away through the dust,
Only to find that they cannot run forever.
He would with fair frequency
Devise in his mind that still yearned
Some plan to find another way,
Another method to bring back the one
Who had been so like a younger brother,
But these thoughts were like a fire
Too weak to do more than warm.
They would flicker and die within hours, sometimes days,
But never more than three.
Their extinguishing left him with that same tiredness.
I will find another one of the plant Utnapishtim instructed me to,
Gilgamesh would say to himself sometimes,
And I will not let it be lost this time.
He would call every grower and every man knowledgeable of plants
to him,
He would describe the ambrosial plant, ask if they knew where it
could be found
Even while knowing it was nowhere mortals ruled,
And when they only shook their heads,
Never having heard of the strange rose-colored plant,
He would send them away and sigh.
Occasionally he wept.
At other times it was:
I will go back to Utnapishtim,
I will beg him to tell me where I might find another life-renewing
plant.
But that thought was dismissed even before it could be put into
action,
For he knew Utnapishtim would only tell him
That he should have been more careful,
And he was not even sure he could return through the Road of
the Sun.
Meanwhile the walls of Uruk saw more and more repairs,
They soared and grew more glorious with each passing day.
Gilgamesh tried to bury the loss he felt every time Enkidu
appeared in his mind,
Unbearable and cruel,
But he discovered that everything seemed to find a connection
to his lost friend,
And he himself took courses of action that were meant to
remind him.
He spoke to the prostitute he had sent so dismissively to tame
Enkidu,
For she, at least, had known him.
With her he found a small window into the past,
Someone who had not known his friend the way he had,
But who would not shake her head or shrug in unfamiliarity.
From her he learned of Enkidu’s animal-like appearance before
he had been tamed,
His role as Protector when he had stayed with the shepherds,
And of his nervousness before being taken to meet Gilgamesh.
She spoke the same things each time,
But like an insect which seeks the light of a flame
No matter its danger,
The king kept her telling the same story,
Just for a few moments of bittersweet remembrance.
You cannot stay like this,
The prostitute said to him during one of these visits.
Melancholy and drowned in the past,
You sadden those who felt hope with your return.
Even when your mind strays from Enkidu, your satisfaction
with Uruk seems less and less.
Gilgamesh listened to the prostitute.
He turned away, thinking.
His mind was laden with a burden of both sadness and
frustration. The thought of
Losing the memory of Enkidu,
Of moving forward without his younger brother,
Was an unthinkable one,
Yet the people of Uruk,
His people,
Needed him. They had seen that their king could be stronger
than he had been before,
And he could not disappoint them again when he had started
anew so well.
Gilgamesh visited his mother, Ninsun,
In the dark of the next night.
The moon was a crescent veiled in dark clouds,
Its shine like that of a pearl’s, but one that sits half-buried
beneath sand on the ocean floor.
The stars seemed to be winking at him,
But he could not tell whether they meant to encourage
Or mock.
Mother, he said, I dreamt.
A being made all of light came to me
Whose splendor was like the sun, and
I was distracted from something important.
I followed the being, and behind me
A storm rent the sky, so severe that nothing it touched
remained—
But I did not notice. I looked back only to see
How far I had traveled with the being,
And saw instead a city like the ruined art of a craftsman,
As though some god had reached down and swatted at the
buildings like flies.
The light-being with the splendor of the sun vanished
And left me in despair.
What could it mean?
Ninsun said: The light-being is your equal
Who is now gone
But who you continue to dwell on,
Like the memories of war which remain
In a warrior’s mind
Long after the fighting is done.
The storm represents danger,
The city something you must not forget.
I must not forget Enkidu, Gilgamesh replied.
Is that what you mean?
She said: My son, I fear that
The storm god Enlil has grown angry with you.
You became friends with Utnapishtim,
Whom Enlil wished dead for his survival through the Flood,
And you killed the Bull of Heaven, whom the gods mourned.
I fear he will send the storm demons Umu after you for
vengeance.
Surprised, Gilgamesh sat quiet at this new
Revelation.
He hoped Ninsun was mistaken,
But his heart grew dark as she spoke.
It was a feeling of foreboding
Like a cloud which hangs overhead,
Full to bursting, dark as pitch,
Threatening to drop rain at any moment.
He knew, somehow, that the Umu would come.
A hunter came to Uruk sometime later,
Bearing news for King Gilgamesh.
My Lord, he said, I have been sent by
A man who claims he can aid you in your quest.
He says he knows of a way to grow the plant you search for.
Gilgamesh felt his heart leap against his chest
Like an animal against a cage. He could only stare for a few
moments,
His shock was so great.
Then he stood and spoke, both suspicious and excited,
Trying to ensure the hunter spoke the truth.
He said: Who is this man who claims to know
How to grow the plant I have been searching for?
I have called every grower and every man knowledgeable of
plants to me,
I have asked all if they knew of a way to find or grow it,
And none could appease me.
Why did this man not answer my summons,
If he knows of my search?
The hunter said: My Lord, he is a wanderer.
He knows of your search only because I told him
In passing conversation. I have offered my home to him
For a few days of rest,
And he has confessed a willingness to stay for
A day or two more so that he might aid you.
Gilgamesh thought for a moment
Of asking where this wanderer had come from,
But excitement overcame his caution
Like a wave crashing against a pebble.
How soon can I reach this man? He questioned,
Eager already to begin the journey.
The hunter told him it would take
But a day to reach his home. Gilgamesh
Immediately set to readying himself,
Determined to see this wanderer
And to finally bring back his friend.
Gilgamesh and the hunter had been walking for some time
When another man met them on the path,
Claiming to be looking for the King of Uruk.
He had been running, and looked as though
Every god, high and low, had been at his back.
He said: I am looking for King Gilgamesh of Uruk,
Who vanquished the monster Humbaba
And defeated the Bull of Heaven.
I have news.
Surprised, Gilgamesh faced the man, saying:
I am Gilgamesh; why do you seek me?
He said: A dying man met me
On the path outside the city. He was crawling
Like an insect whose legs have been crushed;
He begged me to find you. Your city is in danger.
The demons Umu have come and demand your presence;
They destroy one section of the city
And kill 100 people for every day you are not there.
A cloud hangs over the city always,
As permanent as the earth itself,
While rain, wind and lightning
Lend themselves to the Umu as weapons.
You must come back with me.
At the words of the man
Gilgamesh felt his heart sink in despair.
He was journeying to find a way to bring back Enkidu
And yet the gods now set before him a choice
He was not sure he could make.
One path led him to his most loved friend,
Who had endured hardships with him and
Had become in his mind a younger brother;
The other path led back to Uruk,
Where he had started anew and was king.
He knew in his heart that one life
Could never be worth thousands,
But as is common with a person making such a choice,
His emotion made it seem so.
He had known Enkidu personally;
The people of Uruk were known as his people,
But only because he was king.
He had not known them.
Turning to the hunter, he said:
My city is in danger.
Could you ask the wanderer to wait
Just a little while longer?
I can, my Lord,
But I cannot ensure he will stay,
Said the hunter in reply.
He did not seem eager to stay longer than
It would take for us to arrive.
Gilgamesh felt his despair deepen,
And the tiredness he’d felt so often
During his previous journey to bring back Enkidu
Also began to weight him.
He thought of simply going with the hunter,
Running to reach the wanderer as soon as he could
And then returning to Uruk to save his people,
But then he thought of his dream.
Ninsun had said there was
Something he could not forget.
He thought it had been Enkidu,
But like a man who has just emerged from a dark cave
To see the light of the sun,
He now realized that she had not meant his friend at all.
Gilgamesh was king of Uruk,
And above all in this situation
That was what he could not forget.
Without another word he turned to the new man,
Bidding the hunter to try to persuade the wanderer to stay;
They returned to Uruk at a run.
Just as the man had said,
A cloud hung permanently over the city,
Rain, wind and lightning buffeting it
Like the incessant stings of a wasp.
The storm demons Umu,
Hideous things with feathered bodies
And snarling faces,
Circled above and threw the deadly bolts like daggers,
Screeching and laughing raucously.
They spoke, but Gilgamesh could not understand them
As he approached the cracked walls,
The words harsh and garbled.
Nearly all of the buildings of Uruk
Stood in ruins around him,
Rubble and dirt in their places.
What remained was cracked and dirty,
Perilously close to falling,
And strewn amidst these ruins were the bodies of his people,
Torn and mangled as though
A pack of rabid wolves had hunted through the city.
Gilgamesh saw this and cried out in anguish,
A part of him understanding, now,
What Utnapishtim had felt after the flood.
He raised his arms to the sky, and said:
O Shamash, I have followed you in the way decreed;
You aided me against the monster Humbaba,
And I now ask for your help against these, the Umu.
Destroy them, or at least
Tell Enlil to relent in his anger!
I am not Utnapishtim.
He has no reason to be angry with me!
Shamash listened to the cries of Gilgamesh
And nodded his ascent.
The winds sprang to life, turning on the monstrous Umu
Like a mad dog on its master;
Screeching, the demons found themselves
At the god’s mercy. One by one
They were vanquished,
Their feathers blown from their body
And screaming voices lost to the howling wind.
The storm relented and the clouds vanished,
Leaving Uruk at peace in its state of ruin.
Gilgamesh waited for news from the hunter
As repairs to the city
And its people began.
The dead were to be buried,
Buildings rebuilt,
Walls repaired,
And courage restored. The Umu had left a fear
In the hearts of the people of Uruk
Which could not easily be remedied,
But Gilgamesh hoped he could aid them, if only a little.
In truth he was waiting only for the hunter.
The immediate danger in Uruk was done;
He wanted only to find out if growing that plant
And restoring his friend to life was possible.
The hunter arrived one day after the destruction of the Umu.
Gilgamesh welcomed him with excitement and fear warring in
his heart;
Reluctantly, he asked: Did the wanderer stay?
A silence followed his question as vast as an ocean.
The hunter opened his mouth, but it was as though time had
slowed,
It happened so sluggishly.
He waited to hear the words he’d been
Playing in his mind since their parting: Yes, he stayed.
But when the words finally came,
They were ugly and wrong.
No, the hunter said.
He did not stay.
By the time I arrived back at my home
He was gone.
I am sorry, my Lord.
Gilgamesh only watched him for a long moment.
He finally sent the hunter away,
And wept.
--
And there we are. If you're wondering why the ending is so sad, I mimicked the style of the Gilgamesh epic itself, which was also sad.
On another note--sorry for the amount of them!--the choppiness of the timeline of this story is also due to the mimicking of the Foster translation, which tended to skip between scenes and make things like battle very short.
That's all, I think. =D I'd really like some critique, if it's not too much trouble.
It would probably help if you've actually read/know about the story of Gilgamesh, but I suppose you could understand either way.
Also of note, the translation of Gilgamesh I'm mimicking here was very strange. It was in poetry format but had no rhythm; the stanzas didn't even have a set number of lines. I suppose "poetic" applies more to the similes and ideas within it...Obviously I couldn't at all mimic the philosophical ideas Foster slipped in, but I tried my best. Just wanted you all to know that in case you started reading and went "Hey this isn't poetry!" Haha. Now, enjoy.
--
V
Time passed.
The walls of Uruk saw, gradually,
New attention from the people
And from the king who had once let them decay,
As if his return was the herald of something new.
Gilgamesh was again a man alone,
But not so godlike as before,
His thoughts lifted from idleness
By the loss he had suffered.
His people saw the change,
Both good and bad;
They saw how he now cared for the things he had not,
But also the weight he seemed to carry now sometimes
When the ghost of something gone would dim his eyes
And still him.
Enkidu remained in the thoughts of Gilgamesh
For stretches of time that grew less and less,
He noticed,
But the memories still managed to bring back that tiredness
He’d felt so often when trying to bring him back
Every time they surfaced, like the gazelles of the Steppe
Which stop to rest and then bound away through the dust,
Only to find that they cannot run forever.
He would with fair frequency
Devise in his mind that still yearned
Some plan to find another way,
Another method to bring back the one
Who had been so like a younger brother,
But these thoughts were like a fire
Too weak to do more than warm.
They would flicker and die within hours, sometimes days,
But never more than three.
Their extinguishing left him with that same tiredness.
I will find another one of the plant Utnapishtim instructed me to,
Gilgamesh would say to himself sometimes,
And I will not let it be lost this time.
He would call every grower and every man knowledgeable of plants
to him,
He would describe the ambrosial plant, ask if they knew where it
could be found
Even while knowing it was nowhere mortals ruled,
And when they only shook their heads,
Never having heard of the strange rose-colored plant,
He would send them away and sigh.
Occasionally he wept.
At other times it was:
I will go back to Utnapishtim,
I will beg him to tell me where I might find another life-renewing
plant.
But that thought was dismissed even before it could be put into
action,
For he knew Utnapishtim would only tell him
That he should have been more careful,
And he was not even sure he could return through the Road of
the Sun.
Meanwhile the walls of Uruk saw more and more repairs,
They soared and grew more glorious with each passing day.
Gilgamesh tried to bury the loss he felt every time Enkidu
appeared in his mind,
Unbearable and cruel,
But he discovered that everything seemed to find a connection
to his lost friend,
And he himself took courses of action that were meant to
remind him.
He spoke to the prostitute he had sent so dismissively to tame
Enkidu,
For she, at least, had known him.
With her he found a small window into the past,
Someone who had not known his friend the way he had,
But who would not shake her head or shrug in unfamiliarity.
From her he learned of Enkidu’s animal-like appearance before
he had been tamed,
His role as Protector when he had stayed with the shepherds,
And of his nervousness before being taken to meet Gilgamesh.
She spoke the same things each time,
But like an insect which seeks the light of a flame
No matter its danger,
The king kept her telling the same story,
Just for a few moments of bittersweet remembrance.
You cannot stay like this,
The prostitute said to him during one of these visits.
Melancholy and drowned in the past,
You sadden those who felt hope with your return.
Even when your mind strays from Enkidu, your satisfaction
with Uruk seems less and less.
Gilgamesh listened to the prostitute.
He turned away, thinking.
His mind was laden with a burden of both sadness and
frustration. The thought of
Losing the memory of Enkidu,
Of moving forward without his younger brother,
Was an unthinkable one,
Yet the people of Uruk,
His people,
Needed him. They had seen that their king could be stronger
than he had been before,
And he could not disappoint them again when he had started
anew so well.
Gilgamesh visited his mother, Ninsun,
In the dark of the next night.
The moon was a crescent veiled in dark clouds,
Its shine like that of a pearl’s, but one that sits half-buried
beneath sand on the ocean floor.
The stars seemed to be winking at him,
But he could not tell whether they meant to encourage
Or mock.
Mother, he said, I dreamt.
A being made all of light came to me
Whose splendor was like the sun, and
I was distracted from something important.
I followed the being, and behind me
A storm rent the sky, so severe that nothing it touched
remained—
But I did not notice. I looked back only to see
How far I had traveled with the being,
And saw instead a city like the ruined art of a craftsman,
As though some god had reached down and swatted at the
buildings like flies.
The light-being with the splendor of the sun vanished
And left me in despair.
What could it mean?
Ninsun said: The light-being is your equal
Who is now gone
But who you continue to dwell on,
Like the memories of war which remain
In a warrior’s mind
Long after the fighting is done.
The storm represents danger,
The city something you must not forget.
I must not forget Enkidu, Gilgamesh replied.
Is that what you mean?
She said: My son, I fear that
The storm god Enlil has grown angry with you.
You became friends with Utnapishtim,
Whom Enlil wished dead for his survival through the Flood,
And you killed the Bull of Heaven, whom the gods mourned.
I fear he will send the storm demons Umu after you for
vengeance.
Surprised, Gilgamesh sat quiet at this new
Revelation.
He hoped Ninsun was mistaken,
But his heart grew dark as she spoke.
It was a feeling of foreboding
Like a cloud which hangs overhead,
Full to bursting, dark as pitch,
Threatening to drop rain at any moment.
He knew, somehow, that the Umu would come.
A hunter came to Uruk sometime later,
Bearing news for King Gilgamesh.
My Lord, he said, I have been sent by
A man who claims he can aid you in your quest.
He says he knows of a way to grow the plant you search for.
Gilgamesh felt his heart leap against his chest
Like an animal against a cage. He could only stare for a few
moments,
His shock was so great.
Then he stood and spoke, both suspicious and excited,
Trying to ensure the hunter spoke the truth.
He said: Who is this man who claims to know
How to grow the plant I have been searching for?
I have called every grower and every man knowledgeable of
plants to me,
I have asked all if they knew of a way to find or grow it,
And none could appease me.
Why did this man not answer my summons,
If he knows of my search?
The hunter said: My Lord, he is a wanderer.
He knows of your search only because I told him
In passing conversation. I have offered my home to him
For a few days of rest,
And he has confessed a willingness to stay for
A day or two more so that he might aid you.
Gilgamesh thought for a moment
Of asking where this wanderer had come from,
But excitement overcame his caution
Like a wave crashing against a pebble.
How soon can I reach this man? He questioned,
Eager already to begin the journey.
The hunter told him it would take
But a day to reach his home. Gilgamesh
Immediately set to readying himself,
Determined to see this wanderer
And to finally bring back his friend.
Gilgamesh and the hunter had been walking for some time
When another man met them on the path,
Claiming to be looking for the King of Uruk.
He had been running, and looked as though
Every god, high and low, had been at his back.
He said: I am looking for King Gilgamesh of Uruk,
Who vanquished the monster Humbaba
And defeated the Bull of Heaven.
I have news.
Surprised, Gilgamesh faced the man, saying:
I am Gilgamesh; why do you seek me?
He said: A dying man met me
On the path outside the city. He was crawling
Like an insect whose legs have been crushed;
He begged me to find you. Your city is in danger.
The demons Umu have come and demand your presence;
They destroy one section of the city
And kill 100 people for every day you are not there.
A cloud hangs over the city always,
As permanent as the earth itself,
While rain, wind and lightning
Lend themselves to the Umu as weapons.
You must come back with me.
At the words of the man
Gilgamesh felt his heart sink in despair.
He was journeying to find a way to bring back Enkidu
And yet the gods now set before him a choice
He was not sure he could make.
One path led him to his most loved friend,
Who had endured hardships with him and
Had become in his mind a younger brother;
The other path led back to Uruk,
Where he had started anew and was king.
He knew in his heart that one life
Could never be worth thousands,
But as is common with a person making such a choice,
His emotion made it seem so.
He had known Enkidu personally;
The people of Uruk were known as his people,
But only because he was king.
He had not known them.
Turning to the hunter, he said:
My city is in danger.
Could you ask the wanderer to wait
Just a little while longer?
I can, my Lord,
But I cannot ensure he will stay,
Said the hunter in reply.
He did not seem eager to stay longer than
It would take for us to arrive.
Gilgamesh felt his despair deepen,
And the tiredness he’d felt so often
During his previous journey to bring back Enkidu
Also began to weight him.
He thought of simply going with the hunter,
Running to reach the wanderer as soon as he could
And then returning to Uruk to save his people,
But then he thought of his dream.
Ninsun had said there was
Something he could not forget.
He thought it had been Enkidu,
But like a man who has just emerged from a dark cave
To see the light of the sun,
He now realized that she had not meant his friend at all.
Gilgamesh was king of Uruk,
And above all in this situation
That was what he could not forget.
Without another word he turned to the new man,
Bidding the hunter to try to persuade the wanderer to stay;
They returned to Uruk at a run.
Just as the man had said,
A cloud hung permanently over the city,
Rain, wind and lightning buffeting it
Like the incessant stings of a wasp.
The storm demons Umu,
Hideous things with feathered bodies
And snarling faces,
Circled above and threw the deadly bolts like daggers,
Screeching and laughing raucously.
They spoke, but Gilgamesh could not understand them
As he approached the cracked walls,
The words harsh and garbled.
Nearly all of the buildings of Uruk
Stood in ruins around him,
Rubble and dirt in their places.
What remained was cracked and dirty,
Perilously close to falling,
And strewn amidst these ruins were the bodies of his people,
Torn and mangled as though
A pack of rabid wolves had hunted through the city.
Gilgamesh saw this and cried out in anguish,
A part of him understanding, now,
What Utnapishtim had felt after the flood.
He raised his arms to the sky, and said:
O Shamash, I have followed you in the way decreed;
You aided me against the monster Humbaba,
And I now ask for your help against these, the Umu.
Destroy them, or at least
Tell Enlil to relent in his anger!
I am not Utnapishtim.
He has no reason to be angry with me!
Shamash listened to the cries of Gilgamesh
And nodded his ascent.
The winds sprang to life, turning on the monstrous Umu
Like a mad dog on its master;
Screeching, the demons found themselves
At the god’s mercy. One by one
They were vanquished,
Their feathers blown from their body
And screaming voices lost to the howling wind.
The storm relented and the clouds vanished,
Leaving Uruk at peace in its state of ruin.
Gilgamesh waited for news from the hunter
As repairs to the city
And its people began.
The dead were to be buried,
Buildings rebuilt,
Walls repaired,
And courage restored. The Umu had left a fear
In the hearts of the people of Uruk
Which could not easily be remedied,
But Gilgamesh hoped he could aid them, if only a little.
In truth he was waiting only for the hunter.
The immediate danger in Uruk was done;
He wanted only to find out if growing that plant
And restoring his friend to life was possible.
The hunter arrived one day after the destruction of the Umu.
Gilgamesh welcomed him with excitement and fear warring in
his heart;
Reluctantly, he asked: Did the wanderer stay?
A silence followed his question as vast as an ocean.
The hunter opened his mouth, but it was as though time had
slowed,
It happened so sluggishly.
He waited to hear the words he’d been
Playing in his mind since their parting: Yes, he stayed.
But when the words finally came,
They were ugly and wrong.
No, the hunter said.
He did not stay.
By the time I arrived back at my home
He was gone.
I am sorry, my Lord.
Gilgamesh only watched him for a long moment.
He finally sent the hunter away,
And wept.
--
And there we are. If you're wondering why the ending is so sad, I mimicked the style of the Gilgamesh epic itself, which was also sad.
On another note--sorry for the amount of them!--the choppiness of the timeline of this story is also due to the mimicking of the Foster translation, which tended to skip between scenes and make things like battle very short.
That's all, I think. =D I'd really like some critique, if it's not too much trouble.
