Unto me hearken, O Elders, to me, aye, me shall ye listen,
'Tis that I weep for my comrade Enkidu, bitterly crying
Like to a wailing woman: my grip is slack'd on the curtleaxe
Slung at my thigh, and the brand at my belt from my sight is removed.
Aye, and my festal attire lends nought of its aid for my pleasure,
Me, me hath sorrow assailed, and cast me down in affliction.
Comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert,
Comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert,
Enkidu — we who all haps overcame, ascending the mountains,
Captur'd the Heavenly Bull, and destroy'd him: we o'erthrew Humbaba,
He who abode in the Forest of Cedars — O, what is this slumber
Now hath o'ercome thee, for now art thou dark, nor art able to hear me?

He who endured all hardships with me, whom I loved dearly,
Enkidu, — he who endured all hardships with me is now perish'd,
Gone to the common lot of mankind! And I have bewail'd him
Day and night long: and unto the tomb I have not consign'd him.
O but my friend cometh not to my call — six days, yea, a se'nnight
He like a worm hath lain on his face — and I for this reason
Find no life, but must needs roam the desert like to a hunter.