Uta-Napishtim told him: “why is there so much anguish inside you, you who are made of the flesh of gods?

There is no permanence.

Do we build a house to stand for ever,

Do we seal a contract to hold for all times?

Do brothers divine an inheritance to keep for ever,

Does the flood-time of rivers endure?

Is there any one who can ceaselessly stare at the sun?

From the days of old there is no permanence.

The sleeping and the dead, how alike they are,

They are like a painted death.

So does life end,

The lord and the serf are equal in the tomb.”