Tablet XI — The Flood

Translated from the 1901 scholarly English of William Muss-Arnolt

A Note on This Tablet

The eleventh tablet of the Gilgamesh epic contains the famous account of the great flood. The cuneiform text was first published by Friedrich Delitzsch in his Assyrische Lesestücke, third edition, pages 101–109, and more recently in a complete critical edition by Paul Haupt in the second part of his Das Babylonische Nimrodepos, pages 133–150, with all variant readings and supplementary notes. The original publication on plates 50 and 51 of the fourth volume of Inscriptions of Western Asia was re-issued with many improvements by Theophilus G. Pinches in 1891, plates 43 and 44. Translations of the deluge story, or portions of it, have been made since the days of George Smith by Fox Talbot, Jules Oppert, F. Lenormant, Peter Jensen, Alfred Jeremias, H. Winckler, Heinrich Zimmern, L. W. King, C. J. Ball, and others. According to Professor Jastrow, the forthcoming transliteration and translation by Professor Haupt in the third edition of Schrader's Die Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament promises to be the finest yet published. See also the article "Deluge" by H. Zimmern and T. K. Cheyne in Cheyne and Black's Encyclopaedia Biblica, London, 1899, volume I, columns 1055–1066. Tablet XI continues the dialogue between Utnapishtim and Gilgamesh begun in columns V and VI of the preceding tablet.

Gilgamesh said to him, to Utnapishtim the Far-Away:

From the shore, Utnapishtim, beloved of the gods, now told the story of the flood to the hero, who sat listening in his ship.

Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh:

"I will reveal to you, Gilgamesh, a hidden thing, and tell you the secret counsel of the gods. The city of Shurippak—you know it— lies on the bank of the Euphrates. That city grew corrupt, and the gods within it resolved to send a deluge—all the great gods: their father Anu; their counselor, the warrior Bel; their leader Ninib; their champion, Ennugi. But Ea, lord of unfathomable wisdom, spoke against them. He whispered their plan to a reed-hut, saying:

'Reed-hut, reed-hut! Wall, wall! Reed-hut, hear! Clay-brick, attend! Man of Shurippak, son of Ubara-Tutu, tear down your house and build a ship. Forsake your possessions; look to your life. Abandon your goods; save your life, and bring living seed of every kind into the ship. The ship you build—measure its plan with care: let its breadth and length be well proportioned, then launch it upon the sea.'

I took heed and said to Ea, my lord: 'I will do, my lord, as you command; I will observe and carry out your word. But what shall I answer the city, the people, and the elders?'

Ea opened his mouth and spoke to me, his servant: 'Tell them this: I know that Bel hates me. I can no longer dwell in your city, nor set foot on Bel's territory in safety. I shall go down to the Deep, to live with my lord Ea. Upon you he will pour out rich blessings— fowl in plenty and fish in abundance, herds of cattle and a bountiful harvest. Shamash has appointed a time: when the lords of darkness send a destructive rain at evening, the sign will come.'

The lower part of the first column is damaged. What remains begins:

Once early dawn appeared, I dreaded the light of day and gathered together all that was needed. On the fifth day I laid out the plan. The walls rose sixty cubits high; the deck measured sixty cubits across. I roofed it over and sealed it shut. I built it in six stories, making seven floors in all; the interior of each I divided into nine compartments. Water-ports I cut within. I fitted a rudder and added all that was necessary.

Three great measures of pitch I smeared on the hull; three great measures of asphalt I sealed within. Three great measures of oil the workmen carried aboard in jars. One measure I poured out as offerings; the other two the boatman stowed in the hold.

For the temples of the gods I slaughtered oxen; I killed lambs each day. Jars of beer, of oil, and of sweet wine I poured out freely, like river water, as libations. I held a feast like that of the New Year. To the god Shamash my hands brought oil.

At last the ship was finished. The work had been heavy. I rigged tackle above and below, and when all was done the ship settled into the water to two-thirds of its height.

With everything I possessed I filled it; with all the silver I had I filled it; with all the gold I had I filled it; with living creatures of every kind I filled it. Then I embarked my whole family and my kin, cattle of the field, beasts of the field, and all the craftsmen—I brought them aboard.

Shamash had appointed a time: 'When the lords of darkness send a destructive rain at evening, enter the ship and shut its door.' That sign came to pass. The lords of darkness sent a destructive rain at evening. I watched the storm draw near, and feared to see it. I entered the ship and shut the door. To the boatman Purur-bel I entrusted the great vessel and all it held.

At dawn a black cloud rose from the horizon. Within it the storm god Adad thundered; Nabu and Marduk went before him. The destroyers swept across mountain and plain. Dibbara tore loose the mooring cable. Ninib went forth and made the riverbanks overflow. The Anunnaki lifted their torches high, and with their radiance they lit the whole world. The storm of Adad lashed even to the heavens; all light turned to darkness. The land was flooded as though it were nothing. The wind howled, and in a single day the waters rose above the mountains. Like a charge of battle it fell upon the people. Brother could not look upon brother. Men's faces could not be known, even from heaven.

Even the gods were afraid of the storm. They fled and took refuge in the heaven of Anu. There the gods crouched like dogs, cowering along the walls of the sky.

Ishtar cried out like a woman in labor, and the lady of the gods wailed aloud:

'The world of old has turned back to clay, because I consented to this evil in the assembly of the gods! How could I agree to this ruin in the council of the gods— the destruction of my own people? What I created, where is it now? It fills the sea like the spawn of fish.'

The gods wept with her over the Anunnaki. The gods bowed down and sat there weeping, their lips pressed tight in fear and dread.

Six days and nights the wind blew, and storm and tempest ravaged the land. When the seventh day drew near, the tempest, the flood, the raging war that had stormed like an army began to subside. The sea grew still; the hurricane ceased; the storm died away.

I looked out over the sea and raised my voice, but all of humankind had turned to clay. The riverbeds lay flat as the surrounding fields. I opened a window, and light fell upon my cheek. Dumbfounded I sank back and sat weeping, tears streaming down my face. I looked in every direction: everywhere, only sea.

After twelve days a strip of land rose from the water. Toward Mount Nisir the ship drifted. On Mount Nisir the ship came to rest and would not move.

The first day, the second day, Mount Nisir held the ship fast and would not let it go. The third day, the fourth day, Mount Nisir held the ship fast and would not let it go. The fifth day, the sixth day, Mount Nisir held the ship fast and would not let it go.

When the seventh day drew near I sent out a dove and let her go. The dove flew here and there, but finding no place to rest she returned. Then I sent out a swallow and let her go. The swallow flew here and there, but finding no place to rest she too returned. Then I sent out a raven and let her go. The raven flew away and saw that the waters had receded. She settled down to feed, waded out, and did not return.

Then I released everything to the four winds and offered a sacrifice. I poured a libation on the peak of the mountain. Seven and seven censers I set in place and filled them with calamus, cedarwood, and sweet incense. The gods smelled the fragrance— yes, the gods smelled the sweet fragrance— and gathered like flies around the one who made the offering.

When Ishtar, lady of the gods, drew near, she lifted up the jeweled ornaments that Anu had made to fulfill her desire and spoke:

'You gods, by my necklace I swear— I will not forget these days. I will remember them, and never let them pass from mind. Let the gods come to the offering, but Bel shall not come, for he rashly sent the flood and gave my people over to destruction.'

When Bel drew near and saw the ship, he was seized with fury. Rage against the Igigi, the heavenly gods, filled his heart.

'Who has escaped with his life?' he cried. 'No mortal was to have survived the ruin!'

Ninib opened his mouth and answered Bel, the warrior: 'Who but Ea could have done this? Does not Ea know every secret art?'

Then Ea opened his mouth and spoke to Bel, the warrior: 'You, the wise one among the gods—you, warrior— how rash of you to bring a flood! Let the sinner bear his sin, let the wicked answer for his wickedness; but be merciful—do not destroy everything. Be forbearing—do not wipe out all life. Instead of sending a flood, let lions come and thin mankind. Instead of sending a flood, let leopards come and thin mankind. Instead of sending a flood, let famine come and ravage the land. Instead of sending a flood, let plague come and strike the people. I did not reveal the secret counsel of the great gods. I let Atrahasis see it in a dream, and so he heard the mystery of the gods.'

Thereupon Bel made his decision. He went up into the ship, took me by the hand, and led me out. He led out my wife and made her kneel beside me. He turned us to face each other, and standing between us, he blessed us:

'Once Utnapishtim was mortal; now Utnapishtim and his wife shall be exalted like the gods. Utnapishtim shall dwell far away, at the mouth of the rivers.'

Then they bore me off and set me to live far from all others, at the mouth of the rivers."

When Utnapishtim had finished his tale, he turned to Gilgamesh and said:

For six days and seven nights Gilgamesh lay as one struck lame. Sleep came over him like a storm wind.

Then Utnapishtim said to his wife: "Look—here is the hero who yearns for life. Sleep has seized him like a storm wind."

His wife answered Utnapishtim, the Far-Away: "Touch him; let the man eat of the charmed root. Let him, restored to health, return by the road he came and pass through the great gate back to his own land."

Utnapishtim said to his wife: "His suffering moves you. Very well—cook his food and set it at his head."

And while Gilgamesh slept on board the ship, she cooked the food and set it at his head.

And while he slept, first his food was prepared; second, it was peeled; third, it was moistened; fourth, it was cleansed; fifth, the essence of age was added; sixth, it was cooked; and seventh, in a single instant the man was transformed, for he had eaten of the charmed food.

Then Gilgamesh spoke and said to Utnapishtim, the Far-Away: "I had sunk down, and sleep had overcome me. You charmed me in an instant and woke me."

Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh: "Eat your food, Gilgamesh, and hear what was done to it. First your food was prepared; second, it was peeled; third, it was moistened; fourth, it was cleansed; fifth, the essence of age was added; sixth, it was cooked; and seventh, I transformed you in an instant, and you ate of the charmed food."

Then Gilgamesh said to Utnapishtim, the Far-Away: "What shall I do, Utnapishtim? Where shall I go? A demon has seized my friend. Death sits upon my couch. Wherever I turn, there is death."

Utnapishtim said to Urshabani, the ferryman: "Urshabani, you who have been at my side—this boat is yours. Turn away anyone who tries to board. The man before you is covered with sores; the eruption of his skin has disfigured the beauty of his body. Take him, Urshabani, to the place of washing, where he may bathe his sores in running water and let them become white as snow. Let him cast off his ruined skin, and the sea will carry it away. Let his body be made whole. Let a fresh turban be set on his head and a new garment wrapped around his nakedness, so that until he returns to his city, until he reaches his own road, the cloth shall wear no threadbare patch—it shall remain ever new."

Urshabani took him and brought him to the place of washing. There he bathed his sores in running water until they were white as snow. He cast off his ruined skin, and the sea carried it away. His body was made whole. A fresh turban was set on his head and a new garment wrapped around his nakedness, so that until he returned to his city, until he reached his own road, the cloth wore no threadbare patch—it remained ever new.

Then Gilgamesh and Urshabani boarded the boat, and as they journeyed the vessel pitched and swayed.

When they had returned from the place of washing, the wife of Utnapishtim spoke to her husband, the Far-Away: "Gilgamesh departed, and labored, and pulled at the oar. What will you give him now, that he may return to his country?"

Gilgamesh raised the punting pole and drew the boat to shore.

Then Utnapishtim spoke to Gilgamesh: "Gilgamesh, you departed, and labored, and pulled at the oar. What shall I give you now, that you may return to your country? I will reveal to you, Gilgamesh, a mystery, and the decision of the gods I will make known to you.

There is a plant that grows beneath the waters, rooted like a thorn; its barb stings like a bramble. If your hands can reach that plant, you will find what you seek."

When Gilgamesh heard this he opened a way into the water. He bound heavy stones to his feet, and they dragged him down to the sea. There he found the plant. He grasped it, and its thorn tore his hands. He cut the stones free; one tumbled away and he cast the other after it.

Gilgamesh said to Urshabani, the ferryman: "Urshabani, this is a plant of great renown— a plant that grants the desire of the heart. I will carry it to Uruk the strong-walled, plant it there and tend it. Its name shall be: 'The Old Man Made Young Again.' I will eat of it and return to the vigor of my youth."

And they set out on the road to Uruk the strong-walled.

Every twenty leagues they stopped to eat; every thirty leagues they rested. Then Gilgamesh saw a pool of cool water. He waded in and bathed. A serpent smelled the plant and rose from the water; the plant slipped from his grasp. The serpent took it and slithered away, and as it went, it shed its skin.

Then Gilgamesh sat down and wept. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he said to Urshabani, the ferryman: "For whom did my hands labor, Urshabani? For whom has the blood of my heart been spent? I have won nothing for myself. The serpent of the earth has claimed the prize. After journeying only twenty leagues the plant was snatched from me, as I reached into the pool and lowered my arm. I see the sign—it has become an omen for me. I must turn back, leaving the ship on the shore."

So they continued on—stopping every twenty leagues to eat, every thirty leagues to rest—until they came at last to Uruk the strong-walled.

Then Gilgamesh spoke to Urshabani, the ferryman: "Urshabani, climb the wall and walk about Uruk. Examine its foundation; inspect its brickwork. Is it not built of fired brick? Is its foundation not set in pitch? Sevenfold is your name."

The closing lines of the tablet cannot be fully translated. What follows is the first line of Tablet XII, and then the colophon: this is the eleventh tablet of the Epic of Gilgamesh, faithfully copied from the original, and belonging to the library of Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria.