Oh my heart, my dearest one, listen,
Death is a treacherous arrow,
That kills what you love most,
Of fortitude, we boast,
But when loved ones are taken,
Tears hide your next tomorrow,
You're greatest treasures lost
This poem is both stoic and (for lack of a better word) sentimentalist. The stoic part is the acknowledgement of death as inevitable: What else can we do? Gilgamesh's grief made him take a journey for the secret of immortality which failed. We are all just human, people and animals together. And grief makes us more humane, so G. did not fail after all. He showed us how to remember our dead by whatever action we can perform. We aren't epic heroes; we're poets so we write poems like this one to remember our dead. Like all true elegies, this one honors the dead and consoles the living. It fulfills both needs...a sad but necessary task.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I hate leaving a comment after Daniel. : -) What could possibly be added. So, just, thank you for sharing, Sandra