The Epic of Gilgamesh (Penguin Classics) [Paperback]

If the Epic of Gilgamesh, in this great new translation, is not the eldest known text in humanity, it certainly is a universal story, a story of which you can imagine that the animals told each other in times we were still enough alive to hear their voices. Gilgamesj is king and he reigns as a tiran. Everyone belongs to him and all that belongs to them is his property. Wanting to open his eyes, the gods gave him a friend, Enkidu, a creature brought up by Mother Nature, that only in bits and pieces discovers that he is human. Sjamhat, the harlot, learns him wat it is to feel to be a man. Fighting Gilgamesj Enkidu learns to appreciate him as someone being equal, as a friend. Together they succeed in winning, with the help of their friends, the gods, the giant Chumbaba. In a fever of victory, they get the head of the giant back in their base-camp Uruk. The prettiest of all, the godess Isjtar, tries to seduce Gilgamesj, but he refuses her. This makes her mad, and when his friends kill her favorite bull, the one that makes the earth shiver, she really gets angry and decides to kill Enkidu, the favorite friend of Gilgamesj. Gilgamesj can't find consolation. He searches his friend, he searches immortality. But he doesn't succeed. He falls asleep, as most men do. Gilgamesj returns home and sees his city, that will remain when he will be dead. Maybe that's it ? Building a city, leaving traces ... How do you live as a human being ? As the only human being on your earthly ground, because after all, we must admit we're all alone. No one has really any idea about how the other is feeling. You don't wonder, you are there, and that's enough - and before you were there, there was nothing. But suddenly he comes in front of you, someone like you, someone where you have to fight against, someone whose body and soul demands of you to love him. A friend. With who you can fight the world. And the giant. Or isn't it like that ? Giant's, they don't really exist anymore, they say. I've seen them, I see them every day I walk. Giant buildings with elevators that take you up and down. At their feet, the sea of cars and people and other buildings asks you to take a jump from them. And there are evil weeds that you see growing if you stand up there. When you have a friend, you are vulnerable. Because : in no time he is gone. He doesn't speak to you anymore. He is so quiet, so white. He must be sleeping, or is he dead ? What is dying ? Crossing a bord, borders, through the desert, the sea. You search him. You see him, but he's not there. He seems to be someone, here and there. He won't take long before you are in the same position. Or won't you ? You leave something. You're still there. There are traces. You were here.