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Gilgamesh (A New English Version by Stephen Mitchell)

Gilgamesh (A New English Version by Stephen Mitchell)

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by Anonymous, Stephen Mitchell

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Gilgamesh is considered one of the masterpieces of world literature, and although previously there have been competent scholarly translations of it, until now there has not been a version that is a superlative literary text in its own right. Acclaimed translator Stephen Mitchell's lithe, muscular rendering allows us to enter an ancient masterpiece as if for the


Gilgamesh is considered one of the masterpieces of world literature, and although previously there have been competent scholarly translations of it, until now there has not been a version that is a superlative literary text in its own right. Acclaimed translator Stephen Mitchell's lithe, muscular rendering allows us to enter an ancient masterpiece as if for the first time, to see how startlingly beautiful, intelligent, and alive it is. His insightful introduction provides a historical, spiritual, and cultural context for this ancient epic, showing that Gilgamesh is more potent and fascinating than ever.

Gilgamesh dates from as early as 1700 BCE -- a thousand years before the Iliad. Lost for almost two millennia, the eleven clay tablets on which the epic was inscribed were discovered in 1853 in the ruins of Nineveh, and the text was not deciphered and fully translated until the end of the century. When the great poet Rainer Maria Rilke first read Gilgamesh in 1916, he was awestruck. "Gilgamesh is stupendous," he wrote. "I consider it to be among the greatest things that can happen to a person."

The epic is the story of literature's first hero -- the king of Uruk in what is present-day Iraq -- and his journey of self-discovery. Along the way, Gilgamesh discovers that friendship can bring peace to a whole city, that a preemptive attack on a monster can have dire consequences, and that wisdom can be found only when the quest for it is abandoned. In giving voice to grief and the fear of death -- perhaps more powerfully than any book written after it -- in portraying love and vulnerability and the ego's hopeless striving for immortality, the epic has become a personal testimony for millions of readers in dozens of languages.

Editorial Reviews

Carved into 12 clay tablets more than 3,700 years ago, the Sumerian epic of Gilgamesh has been called the oldest story in the world, the first literary classic, and the progenitor of all heroic tales. In poet Stephen Mitchell's new version, the story of the king of Uruk comes alive with a vibrancy that not even scholars will recognize.
Steven Moore
… [Mitchell's] version can be warmly recommended. He retains just enough of the strangeness of the original and its robust imagery to capture its essence, and by smoothing the fragments into a coherent narrative he highlights the work's essential themes: the necessary but painful progression from innocence to experience, the joys and sorrows of friendship, and the realization that personal fulfillment comes not in some mythical afterlife but here on Earth.
— The Washington Post
Joy Connolly
[Mitchell] believes literary greatness rests in what texts can teach us about ourselves, and he cracks open the lessons in ''Gilgamesh'' by rebuilding its clay fragments into a poem easy on the eyes and the transcultural imagination. Gone are the brackets and dots that signify the presence of gaps and disputed interpretations in the sources. When he can, Mitchell spackles the standard Akkadian version with verses in other languages, from other traditions; when none are available, he supplies his own. The result is a quintessentially American version of the ancient Mesopotamian narrative -- vibrant, earnest, unfussily accessible -- whose moments of red-blooded splendor stand in contrast to stretches of bland sentimentality.
The New York Times
Publishers Weekly
The acclaimed translator of the Tao Te Ching and the Bhagavad Gita now takes on the oldest book in the world. Inscribed on stone tablets a thousand years before the Iliad and the Bible and found in fragments, Gilgamesh describes the journey of the king of the city of Uruk in what is now Iraq. At the start, Gilgamesh is a young giant with gigantic wealth, power and beauty-and a boundless arrogance that leads him to oppress his people. As an answer to their pleas, the gods create Enkidu to be a double for Gilgamesh, a second self. Learning of this huge, wild man who runs with the animals, Gilgamesh dispatches a priestess to find him and tame him by seducing him. Making love with the priestess awakens Enkidu's consciousness of his true identity as a human being rather than as an animal. Enkidu is taken to the city and to Gilgamesh, who falls in love with him as a soul mate. Soon, however, Gilgamesh takes his beloved friend with him to the Cedar Forest to kill the guardian, the monster Humbaba, in defiance of the gods. Enkidu dies as a result. The overwhelming grief and fear of death that Gilgamesh suffers propels him on a quest for immortality that is as fast-paced and thrilling as a contemporary action film. In the end, Gilgamesh returns to his city. He does not become immortal in the way he thinks he wants to be, but he is able to embrace what is. Relying on existing translations (and in places where there are gaps, on his own imagination), Mitchell seeks language that is as swift and strong as the story itself. He conveys the evenhanded generosity of the original poet, who is as sympathetic toward women and monsters-and the whole range of human emotions and desires-as he is toward his heroes. This wonderful new version of the story of Gilgamesh shows how the story came to achieve literary immortality-not because it is a rare ancient artifact, but because reading it can make people in the here and now feel more completely alive. Author tour. (Oct.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
The moving tale of a king who mourns the death of his closest friend and consequently undertakes a journey to discover the secrets of immortality, Gilgamesh has been in existence for thousands of years but was not discovered and translated until the 19th century. Written in Akkadian and Sumerian, the surviving texts have been translated many times, sometimes in literal versions and other times in sparer, more dramatic renderings. Prolific translator Mitchell uses various versions of the tale to achieve a fuller and more free-flowing adaptation. In his extensive notes, he indicates where he adds, transfers, or omits lines in order to create an exciting narrative. In the introduction, he parallels Gilgamesh's ill-fated journey to kill a dragon with George W. Bush's war in Iraq, but he does not belabor the point, which is just as well. The reader will want to read the long introduction after the poem, as too much of the plot is revealed there. Recommended for all larger public and undergraduate academic libraries, especially those that do not have the definitive (and expensive) two-volume Oxford edition edited by A.R. George. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 6/15/04.]-Morris Hounion, New York City Coll. of Technology Lib., CUNY, Brooklyn Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
From the Publisher
"Beautifully retold and a page-turner in the bargain. Like Seamus Heaney's recent retelling of Beowulf, this book proves that in the right hands, no great story ever grows stale."


"A flowing, unbroken version that reads as effortlessly as a novel...with startlingly familiar hopes, fears, and lusts. Mitchell...cracks open the lessons in Gilgamesh by rebuilding its clay fragments into a poem easy on the eyes and the transcultural imagination....Vibrant, earnest, unfussily accessible.... The muscular eloquence and rousing simplicity of Mitchell's four-beat line effectively unleash the grand vehemence of the epic's battle scenes, and the characters' ominous visions emerge with uncanny clarity."

The New York Times Book Review

"Utterly enthralling reading, thanks to Mr. Mitchell's skill and flair in recasting the ancient text."

The New York Sun

"Seamus Heaney isn't the only one intent on making the classics relevant to our times. Mitchell...offers a limpid retelling of this story about absolute power.... Its message of love, loss, and endurance [is] rendered in fresh, forceful language."

Los Angeles Times

"The mysterious, sinewy surge of his verse [is] thoroughly modern, yet an uncanny evocation of the primeval."

The Boston Globe

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A New English Version
By Stephen Mitchell

Free Press

Copyright © 2004 Stephen Mitchell
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-7432-6164-X

Chapter One

The Oldest Story in the World

In Iraq, when the dust blows, stopping men and tanks, it brings with it memories of an ancient world, much older than Islam or Christianity. Western civilization originated from that place between the Tigris and the Euphrates, where Hammurabi created his legal code and where Gilgamesh was written - the oldest story in the world, a thousand years older than the Iliad or the Bible. Its hero was a historical king who reigned in the Mesopotamian city of Uruk in about 2750 bce. In the epic, he has an intimate friend, Enkidu, a naked wild man who has been civilized through the erotic arts of a temple priestess. With him Gilgamesh battles monsters, and when Enkidu dies, he is inconsolable. He sets out on a desperate journey to find the one man who can tell him how to escape death.

Part of the fascination of Gilgamesh is that, like any great work of literature, it has much to tell us about ourselves. In giving voice to grief and the fear of death, perhaps more powerfully than any book written after it, in portraying love and vulnerability and the quest for wisdom, it has become a personal testimony for millions of readers in dozens of languages. But it also has a particular relevance in today's world, with its polarized fundamentalisms, each side fervently believing in its own righteousness, each on a crusade, or jihad, against what it perceives as an evil enemy. The hero of this epic is an antihero, a superman (a superpower, one might say) who doesn't know the difference between strength and arrogance. By preemptively attacking a monster, he brings on himself a disaster that can only be overcome by an agonizing journey, a quest that results in wisdom by proving its own futility. The epic has an extraordinarily sophisticated moral intelligence. In its emphasis on balance and in its refusal to side with either hero or monster, it leads us to question our dangerous certainties about good and evil.

I began this version of Gilgamesh because I had never been convinced by the language of any translation of it that I'd read. I wanted to find a genuine voice for the poem: words that were lithe and muscular enough to match the power of the story. If I have succeeded, readers will discover that, rather than standing before an antiquity in a glass case, they have entered a literary masterpiece that is as startlingly alive today as it was three and a half millennia ago.


Gilgamesh is a work that in the intensity of its imagination stands beside the great stories of Homer and the Bible. Yet for two thousand years, all traces of it were lost. The baked clay tablets on which it was inscribed in cuneiform characters lay buried in the rubble of cities across the ancient Near East, waiting for people from another world to read them. It wasn't until 1853 that the first fragments were discovered among the ruins of Nineveh, and the text wasn't deciphered and translated for several decades afterward. The great poet Rainer Maria Rilke may have been the first reader discerning enough to recognize its true literary stature. "Gilgamesh is stupendous!" he wrote at the end of 1916. "I... consider it to be among the greatest things that can happen to a person." "I have immersed myself in [it], and in these truly gigantic fragments I have experienced measures and forms that belong with the supreme works that the conjuring Word has ever produced." In Rilke's consciousness, Gilgamesh, like a magnificent Aladdin's palace that has instantly materialized out of nowhere, makes its first appearance as a masterpiece of world literature.

The story of its discovery and decipherment is itself as fabulous as a tale from The Thousand and One Nights. A young English traveler named Austen Henry Layard, who was passing through the Middle East on his way to Ceylon, heard that there were antiquities buried in the mounds of what is now the city of Mosul, halted his journey, and began excavations in 1844. These mounds turned out to contain the ruined palaces of Nineveh, the ancient capital of Assyria, including what was left of the library of the last great Assyrian king, Ashurbanipal (668-627 B.C.E.). "In amazement" Layard and his assistant Hormuzd Rassam "found room after room lined with carved stone bas-reliefs of demons and deities, scenes of battle, royal hunts and ceremonies; doorways flanked by enormous winged bulls and lions; and, inside some of the chambers, tens of thousands of clay tablets inscribed with the curious, and then undeciphered, cuneiform ('wedge-shaped') script." Over twenty-five thousand of these tablets were shipped back to the British Museum.

When cuneiform was officially deciphered in 1857, scholars discovered that the tablets were written in Akkadian, an ancient Semitic language cognate with Hebrew and Arabic. Fifteen years went by before anyone noticed the tablets on which Gilgamesh was inscribed. Then, in 1872, a young British Museum curator named George Smith realized that one of the fragments told the story of a Babylonian Noah, who survived a great flood sent by the gods. "On looking down the third column," Smith wrote, "my eye caught the statement that the ship rested on the mountains of Nizir, followed by the account of the sending forth of the dove, and its finding no resting-place and returning. I saw at once that I had here discovered a portion at least of the Chaldean account of the Deluge." To a Victorian this was a spectacular discovery, because it seemed to be independent corroboration of the historicity of the biblical Flood (Victorians believed that the Genesis story was much older than it is). When Smith saw these lines, according to a later account, he said, " 'I am the first man to read that after more than two thousand years of oblivion!' Setting the tablet on the table," the account continues, "he jumped up and rushed about the room in a great state of excitement, and, to the astonishment of those present, began to undress himself." We aren't told if he took off just his coat or if he continued to strip down further. I like to imagine him in his euphoria going all the way and running stark naked, like Enkidu, among the astonished black-clad Victorian scholars.

Smith's announcement, made on December 3, 1872 to the newly formed Society of Biblical Archaeology, that he had discovered an account of the Flood on one of the Assyrian tablets caused a major stir, and soon more fragments of Gilgamesh were unearthed at Nineveh and in the ruins of other ancient cities. His translation of the fragments that had been discovered up to then was published in 1876. Though to a modern reader it seems quaint and almost surrealistic in its many mistaken guesses, and is often fragmentary to the point of incoherence, it was an important pioneering effort.

Today, more than a century and a quarter later, many more fragments have surfaced, the language is much better understood, and scholars can trace the history of the text with some degree of confidence. Briefly, here is the consensus.

Legends about Gilgamesh probably began to arise shortly after the death of the historical king. The earliest texts that have survived, which date from about 2100 BCE, are five separate and independent poems in Sumerian, entitled "Gilgamesh and Aga," "Gilgamesh and Huwawa," "Gilgamesh and the Bull of Heaven," "Gilgamesh and the Underworld," and "The Death of Gilgamesh." (Sumerian is a non-Semitic language unrelated to any other that we know, and is as distant from Akkadian as Chinese is from English. It became the learned language of ancient Mesopotamia and was part of the scribal curriculum.) These five poems - written in a leisurely, repetitive, hieratic style, much less condensed and vivid than the Akkadian epic - would have been familiar to later poets and editors.

The direct ancestor of the eleven clay tablets dug up at Nineveh is called the Old Babylonian version. It was written in Akkadian (of which Babylonian is a dialect) and dates from about 1700 B.C.E.; eleven fragments have survived, including three tablets that are almost complete. This version, though it paraphrases a few episodes in the Sumerian Gilgamesh texts, is an original poem, the first Epic of Gilgamesh. In its themes and its form, it is essentially the same poem as its Ninevite descendent: a story about friendship, the death of the beloved, and the quest for immortality.

Some five hundred years after the Old Babylonian version was written, a scholar-priest named Sîn-léqi-unninni revised and elaborated on it. His epic, which scholars call the Standard Version, is the basis for all modern translations. As of now, with seventy-three fragments discovered, slightly fewer than two thousand of the three thousand lines of the original text exist in readable, continuous form; the rest is damaged or missing, and there are many gaps in the sections that have survived.

We don't know exactly what Sîn-léqi-unninni's contribution to the Standard Version was, since so few fragments of the Old Babylonian version have survived for comparison. From what we can see, he is often a conservative editor, following the older version line for line, with few if any changes in vocabulary and word order. Sometimes, though, he expands or contracts, drops passages or adds them, and functions not as an editor but as an original poet. The two major passages that we know he added, the Prologue and the priestess Shamhat's speech inviting Enkidu to Uruk, have the vividness and density of great art.

The Gilgamesh that you are about to read is a sometimes free, sometimes close adaptation into English verse of Sîn-léqi-unninni's Standard Version. Even scholars making literal translations don't simply translate the Standard Version; they fill in some of the textual gaps with passages from other versions, the Old Babylonian being the most important. I have taken this practice further: occasionally, when the Standard Version is particularly fragmentary, I have supplemented it with passages from the Sumerian Gilgamesh poems. I have also added lines or short passages to bridge the gaps or to clarify the story. My intention throughout has been to re-create the ancient epic, as a contemporary poem, in the parallel universe of the English language.

Civilizing the Wild Man

Gilgamesh is the story of a hero's journey; one might say that it is the mother of all heroes' journeys, with its huge uninhibited mythic presences moving through a landscape of dream. It is also the story of how a man becomes civilized, how he learns to rule himself and therefore his people, and to act with temperance, wisdom, and piety. The poem begins with the city and ends with it.

In the first lines of his Prologue, Sîn-léqi-unninni states the breadth and depth of what his hero had endured: "He had seen everything, had experienced all emotions." The next seven lines tell us the essential details, not even bothering to mention the hero's name. Gilgamesh had traveled to the edge of the world and been granted knowledge of the primeval days of humanity; he had survived the journey and returned to restore the great temple of Ishtar and Uruk's then famous six-mile-long wall.

And now, after this summary, something fascinating happens. Sîn-léqi-unninni turns to his readers and invites them to survey the great city for themselves:

See how its ramparts gleam like copper in the sun. Climb the stone staircase, more ancient than the mind can imagine, approach the Eanna Temple, sacred to Ishtar, a temple that no king has equaled in size or beauty, walk on the wall of Uruk, follow its course around the city, inspect its mighty foundations, examine its brickwork, how masterfully it is built, observe the land it encloses: the palm trees, the gardens, the orchards, the glorious palaces and temples, the shops and marketplaces, the houses, the public squares.

It is a very strange and touching moment. The poet is ostensibly addressing an audience of ancient Babylonians in 1200 B.C.E., directing them to admire a city that was built in time immemorial. But the readers, as it turns out, are you and I. We are the ones who are being invited, more than three thousand years later, to walk on the wall of Uruk and observe the splendor and bustling life of the great city. The invitation is touching not because the city is in ruins and the civilization has been destroyed - this is not an ironic "Ozymandias" moment - but because in our imagination we can climb the ancient stone staircase and observe the lush gardens and orchards, the palaces and temples, the shops and marketplaces, the houses, the public squares, and share the poet's amazement and pride in his city.

Then Sîn-léqi-unninni's invitation becomes more intimate. "Find the cornerstone," he tells us, and under it the copper box that is marked with his name. Unlock it. Open the lid. Take out the tablet of lapis lazuli. Read how Gilgamesh suffered all and accomplished all.

I doubt whether even in 1200 B.C.E. this was meant to be taken literally. Even to an ancient Babylonian reader, the lines would have been vivid enough to make the physical act unnecessary. As we read the instructions, we can see ourselves finding the cornerstone, taking out the copper box, unlocking it, opening its lid, and taking out the priceless tablet of lapis lazuli, which turns out, in the end, to be the very poem we are about to read. We are looking beneath the surface of things, into the hidden places, the locked repositories of human experience. The trials that Gilgamesh himself is supposed to have written down long ago are now being revealed to us in words that, whether "carved on stone tablets" or printed on paper, create their own sense of authenticity. They issue directly from the source: if not from the historical Gilgamesh, then from a poet who has imagined that hero's experience intensely enough for it to be true.

The Old Babylonian poem that Sîn-léqi-unninni inherited begins with the phrase "Surpassing all kings." It describes Gilgamesh as a gigantic and manic young man (his name may mean "The Old Man is a Young Man"), a warrior, and, after his return, as a good king and benefactor to his people: a combination of Goliath and David. But to begin with he is a tyrant. When we first enter the poem, there is an essential imbalance in the city; something has gone drastically wrong. The man of unsurpassable courage and inexhaustible energy has become a monster of selfishness; the shepherd has become a wolf. He oppresses the young men, perhaps with forced labor, and oppresses the young women, perhaps with his ravenous sexual appetite. Because he is an absolute monarch (and two-thirds divine into the bargain), no one dares to criticize him. The people call out to heaven, like the Israelite slaves in Exodus, and their cry is heard.


Excerpted from Gilgamesh by Stephen Mitchell Copyright © 2004 by Stephen Mitchell. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

What People are Saying About This

Harold Bloom
Stephen Mitchell's Gilgamesh is a wonderful version. It is as eloquent and nuanced as his translations of Rilke. This is certainly the best that I have seen in English.
author of The Western Canon and The Book of J
Elaine Pagels
Reading Stephen Mitchell's marvelously clear and vivid rendering makes me feel that I am encountering Gilgamesh for the first time.
Harrington Professor of Religion, Princeton University
Robert Coles
Here is the wisdom and lyrical beauty of yore rendered, offered us anew, by a distinguished, ever-so-knowing translator and poet who has given so many of us a wondrous education these past years. Mitchell connects us to treasures of the past brought alive by his broad and deep sensibility.
author of Lives of Moral Leadership, The Call of Service, and The Spiritual Life of Children and James Agee Professor of Social Ethics, Harvard University
Peter Matthiessen
Stephen Mitchell's fresh new rendition of mankind's oldest recorded myth is quite wonderful in its limpidity and the immediacy of its live emotions.
author of The Snow Leopard and At Play in the Fields of the Lord

Meet the Author

Stephen Mitchell is widely known for his ability to make old classics thrillingly new. His many books include the bestselling Tao Te Ching, the Iliad, GilgameshThe Gospel According to Jesus, The Book of Job, Bhagavad Gita, and The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke. His website is StephenMitchellBooks.com.

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Gilgamesh 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 27 reviews.
Dave63 More than 1 year ago
This version of Gilgamesh is wonderful. The author starts with a lengthy introduction to the poem. What follows is the text and then extensive footnotes. The problem is that the ebook edition is just awful. The line breaks of the poem have been removed so it displays as prose paragraphs instead of lines of verse, thus destroying much of the author's hard work. He says in the introduction "once my prose version was completed, I began the real work, of raising the language to the level of English verse." So much for all that hard work :(. The other problem is the footnotes. Although there are 58 pages of footnotes in the book, there are no footnote marks in the text itself, so you don't realize there's a footnote about the text as you're reading it. The footnotes refer to the applicable page, so the only way to connect the note to the text is to read the entire page and try to figure out which passage applies. Skip the eBook edition and get the paper one.
AdamZ1 More than 1 year ago
It's astonish to read this book and then read the Old Testament and see how much the Bible stole from it. Stephen Mitchell's version is probably the best, though I would also suggest Herbert Mason's much shorter version.
Guest More than 1 year ago
The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of the oldest pieces of literature on Earth along with the Upanishads, and various Chinese and Egyptian stories. This version of the epic is clear and rings to the unexperienced reader. This is one of the greatest feats of writing.
Rambo1 11 months ago
This is an actual good read, but the author give away the story in the introduction. Regardless, Gilgamesh is a life lesson, that any one can learn from.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I wish my high school had assigned this one instead of the Mason version. I like this one a lot more
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Bookworm1279 More than 1 year ago
Gilgamesh by Stephen Mitchell A great read, one that I had to read for class, But will say that I enjoyed reading the epic classic of Gilgamesh and Enkidu, reading about their friendship, about them being brothers. Enkidu was went to to bring down Gilgamesh because he was getting out of hand with the town folks. The villagers wanted Gilgamesh to stop, stop taking what is not his, so they sent Enkidu who is his equal and will become his friend his best friend and become his brother. When they come together they are one they balance each other out, they are their for one another, help each other out. Together they take down someone but at a cost, they upset the GODS who in return take something very dear away. This leaves a void for Gilgamesh, he is lost without his friend, he can't deal with the loss and wants to know how to overcome, how to deal with DEATH.
AlWheels More than 1 year ago
Excellently well written, only reference to the flood outside of the Bible, found in Chapter 11. Defines date of the flood to be somewhere before 2700 BCE.
tbryan19 More than 1 year ago
Awesome,granddaddy of all self discovery tales,Gilgamesh the man who plunged the the deep for lifes deeper meaning!!!!!
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The_Beastlord_Slavedragon More than 1 year ago
Ishtar is the goddess of carnal knowledge. She educates and annoints Endik in the ways of civilization. After having been enligtened and civilized he begins to have nightmares on the subject of death. No one is ever so fearful of death as is Endik after having been so enlightened. He has horrid nightmares of the souls rotting in Hell and he considers that he must indeed have actually gone there. Subsequent to his awakening to these new concepts of both fear and duplicity he dies. It is as if the knowledge such things in and of themselves alone actually killed him. The passage of the tale that became the most memorable follows as: "I descended in to Helll. The place was littered with crowns. I saw the crowns of great kings and wise men and priests's robes." As a reader I found it rather refreshingly chilling that the riches of the high and lofty and the self righteous high acheivers occupied the heat and the long sufferings and the thirsts and hungers having to do with such a souless place of doom. It kept me awake thinking. These are concepts that had been considered by whomever compiled this folk tale from Lebannon nearly four thousand years ago and long before Genesis was ever written. We are not so slick as we think. Antiquity always has me checking my post modernity with the knowing of a grandparent catching his grandchildren playing doctor. Unmoved and without nubile juvenality is the way this story is set. Lately I have grown so very tired of post modernist juvenalities and sophmoric viewpoints passing themselves of as mature and considerate philosphoical development. It's a great read. In my tale called 'Tournament', which many lover's of chain mail and others at CENTCOM cyber-command and military espionage have spied upon, in addition to the legitimately and correctly addressed fans and supportive readers of mine, I was able to derive the character Fangon the Pius. It was those who Endik met during his descent into Hell, in the tale of Gilgamesh from this passage, to whom I was referring from Gilgamesh. "Fangon the Pius was a despicable little shell of an excuse for a human being......" I am am so glad he and his ilk descended into hell. Moreover I take delight in being comforted that the most vile apportments in Hell are have special reservations for such haughty and self-appointed weaklings aspiring to public notoriety as he. The Beastlord Slavedragon
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