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[constantine]

In an effort to expand the intellectual horizons of the general population, we've decided to embark on a new project that should increase the level of poetic awareness in the pib community and in the world at large. In the weeks to come, yours truly (that's me!)  and perhaps mr. north, will endeavor to examine the works of celebrated poets in an effort to see what makes their poetry tick or what makes it fizzle like bromo in cheap beer. Come! Join us as we traverse the world of poetry. i say thank you.

[constantine]

i'll get right on it, boss. in the evening, we will dissect this gilgamesh and see what we shall see!

[constantine]

below is a fragment of the epic of gilgamesh that is representative of the style of the piece. let's see what the nameless sumerian author has in his/her bag of tricks!

Segment A

1-4. I will sing the song of the man of battle, the man of battle. I will sing the song of Lord Gilgameš, the man of battle, I will sing the song of him with the well-proportioned limbs, the man of battle. I will sing the song of the mighty …… lord, the man of battle.
5-11. {I will sing the song of the lord with the very black beard, the man of battle. I will sing the song of …… athletic strength, the man of battle. …… the king, the man ……; my king ……, my lord …… garden ……. …… courtyard, …… ĝipar;} {(1 ms. has instead:) …… his mother who bore him spoke to the lord: "My king …… in the river, my lord …… your garden."
2 lines unclear
}
unknown no. of lines missing


let's mull this over for a bit and see what hits the fan!

[constantine]

had enough? not bad, if the poet was tonto. one gets the sneaking suspicion that this is more of a chant than a poem. i picture some high priest laying it on the congregation of uruk or lagash intoning and droning redundantly about this "man of battle." enough already! we get the fucking idea.

One thing that does strike me is the use of the extended ellipse. this confused me at first , but i have a theory that ties up that loose end like a stringed haggis. i think it is an error in translation. what the nameless sumerian probably meant was eclipse not ellipse. if you read it as eclipse, it starts to make sense. the mighty lord of the eclipse - can there be a more striking image of power? he eclipses the king - this man of eclipse - he becomes the king eclipse.

notice how the nameless sumerian uses the eclipse motif in a round of punning reminiscent of the bard (shakespeare) :

my lord 'e clips the garden - 'e clips the courtyard - 'e clips gipar[?] - 'e clips his own mother who bore him[!]


the ending makes absolutely no sense at all:

my king eclipsed in the river, but still 'e clips the garden.


perhaps this is a reference to the afterlife, as in: the king drowned in the river, but still clips his garden. personally, i think he went a little overboard with the punnage. rare is the poet who can extend a pun. epics are one thing - comedy is another kind of animal altogether.

[constantine]

this is what i'm talking about! the beginnings of agrarian life reflects itself in the art. we have, basically speaking, a grain eating people with associated dental problems venturing into unplowed poetic grasslands - eating, planting, and chanting as they go. pastoral? yes!  agrarian? you bet!  good poetry? i don't think so, but at least they tried and we should respect them for that.

[constantine]

i love that ring! bardy utu of ur was the best of the bunch. a poet in his own right, this diminutive despot would write his poetry on the dried foreskins of the neighboring elamites who he devastated in the battle of ganesh in 2430 bce. unfortunatedly, no text remains -  foreskins don't last forever, as well you know.

[constantine]

i hadn't thought of that, but it makes sense to me.  the "he-goat" aegis was the sacred prophylactic of the temple of inanna until a greek stole it and gave it to athena.  shall we leave the wadis and tells of mesopotamia for more fertile arenas? east - west, doesn't matter to me. even south if you want, but the offerings are lean in the tropics due to the climate and predators both mammalian and reptilian.

[constantine]

in critique methodology - at least as yours truly understands it, a poem exists as both an artistic expression and as a historical document - a concept frequently overlooked and under-appreciated. we will be back later to further masticate upon this mesopotamian mythos - this meat of old monarchs, as a wise baltimore poet once said.

[constantine]

they must've written this poem by committee. gone are the elipses/eclipses as we now enter the realm of a more sophisticated poetry - less ritualistic - reflecting, perhaps, improved social organization and prosperity - or a better translator. again, we see the significance of grain - the domestication of a food supply that gave birth to these early civilizations and afforded them the leisure time to create art and perhaps even baklava. it is not a mystery why gilgamesh offered flour to the sun god.  i'd like your thoughts on the matter, mr. north.

[constantine]

i'd sort of like to hang around with the mesopotamians for a bit. they don't get enough respect. when one considers that more time elapsed between the sumerians and jesus than from jesus to our time, well to me, that is pretty mind-boggling and is virtuous of our combined and considerable powers of discernment -if i don't say so myself.

i have something in mind, but i have to find the text. it's a gooder!!

[constantine]

Hymn to Inanna

Enheduanna (first "author" named in western history)

The Hymn of Enheduanna, Daughter of Sargon II of Akkad, Princess Imperial of Sumer and Akkad and Priestess of Inanna and the Moon in Ur: c. 2300 b.c., to Inanna, goddess of love, war and life.

O Queen of the Seven Gods, O radiant splendor
of light, fountain of life, darling of Heaven
and Earth, priest, daughter and servant of Heaven!

Jewelled and crowned with life, born to be Lord,
in your hand are the guardian spirits of the Seven Gods,
and you yourself guard and protect the guardian spirits,
you have taken them up and tied them to your hands,
have gathered them in and pressed them to your breast.

You can fill the land with poison like a snake,
plants vanish from the earth when you thunder like Anu,
at your command the floods come down from the mountain.

Supreme in power, Inanna of Heaven and Earth,
whose mouth rains sparkles of lightning over the land,
mistress of beasts, given the gods’ life-spirits
by An, by An given the unfailing Word
to speak at his fateful command: who can fathom your glory?

...O wild and rampant, eldest daughter of the Moon,
Queen greater than An, who can pay you sufficient homage?

Queen of Queens, who in accordance with the spirits
were greater than your mother the moment you were born,
wise and knowing queen of all the lands,
mother of men and animals, I sing your praise...

I have entered before you in my holy garments,
I the princess imperial, Enheduanna,
singing as I carried your ritual baskets,

High Priestess of the Moon. But now no longer
can I serve the goodly temple that I established,
for the day that dawns in Ur scorches my skin
and the sand of the Southwind overwhelms me at nightfall,

My honey sweet voice is hoarse and strident
and all that gave me pleasure has fallen to dust.

I, what am I among living creatures!

An, An, give to punishment the rebels
that hate Inanna, and split their cities’ walls!

Enlil, curse them, and let their children perish
with no mother there to soothe them!

...The queen of queens, the prop of all the nations,
accepted Enheduanna’s prayers. Her heart
was again as of old, the day became propitious,
Inanna showered her beauty and allure
and joy like silver moonlight over our land!

Ancient Nanu in wonder and awe, and Ningal
her mother, worshiped her at the templ’s doorstep.

Priestess, queen, noble commander of gods,
destroyer of barbarians, whom An made protector of spirits,
Queen, clothed in allure and attraction, Inanna: Praise

[constantine]

over 4000 years have passed and it still takes connections to go big time. a princess! daughter of fucking sargon no less. if shanker, swineherd of nineveh, had written this we wouldn't even be reading it. sounds like enya to me - if i may be so bold. oh, i suppose it is fashionable and politically correct to give women their due, but then they take on this attitude of being the grand poohbahs of procreation - like they did it all by their lonesome. give me a break - that kind of attitude would drive a real man to masturbation rather than submitting to their holier than thou crapolla.  but i digress. let's give her the benefit of the doubt and treat her poem as if she wasn't a princess, but rather a poetess from dundalk or essex - far-fetched as that may be.

[constantine]

but they get pissed off so easy, my friend. check this out:

An, An, give to punishment the rebels
that hate Inanna, and split their cities’ walls!

Enlil, curse them, and let their children perish
with no mother there to soothe them!

men had to take over the reins for their own self-protection. that much is obvious. notice that as the princess starts getting old she gets more surly:


High Priestess of the Moon. But now no longer
can I serve the goodly temple that I established,
for the day that dawns in Ur scorches my skin
and the sand of the Southwind overwhelms me at nightfall,


then she starts squawking about blasting city walls and children without mothers. how can you trust her, much less live with her?

[constantine]

it's enlil, i believe, that is the root of the problem. once they switched from breast-feeding to using formulas like enlil everything went to the dogs!!

[constantine]

good point!