If I'm a painting, your eyes will be half-opened
You can't figure out if I'm an almond tree
And if I'm a breath, your lips seems like a gate
impassable
Keep a little room for me
inside of you, even if you don't want me
Dedicate some corner to me
even if you think that it is too late
I'll brink a clear sky to where now is a heavy winter
(I'll brink) peace to mind and sweetness to heart
But don't you refuse me
Open, hurry up your walking
to come by my side.
"Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to?
You will never find that life for which you are looking.
When the gods created man they allotted to him death,
but life they retained in their own keeping"