The goddess Ishtar saw him and fell in love
with the beauty of Gilgamesh and longed for his body.
"Be my lover, be my husband," she spoke and said.
"Give me the seed of your body, give me your semen;
plant your seed in the body of Ishtar.
Abundance will follow, riches beyond the telling:
a chariot of lapis lazuli
and brass and ivory, with golden wheels,
and pulled instead of mules by storm-beasts harnessed.
Enter our house: from floor and doorpost breathes
the odor of cedar; the floor kisses your feet.
Princes and kings bow down to offer their wealth,
the best of the yield of orchard, garden and field.
Your doe-goats give you triplets, your ewes also;
your chariot-steeds and oxen beyond compare."
Gilgamesh answered and said: "What could I offer
the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?
Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?
I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.
You are the door through which the cold gets in.
You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch
that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.
You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe
that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall
that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky
waterskin soaking the waterskin carrier.
Who were your lovers and bridegrooms? Tammuz the slain,
whose festival-wailing is heard, year after year,
