“Those writers known from the old days,
the times just after the gods —
Those who foretold what would happen (and did),
whose names endure for eternity —
They disappeared when they finished their lives,
and all their kindred were forgotten.
They did not build pyramids in bronze
with gravestones of iron from heaven;
They did not think to leave a patrimony made of children
who would give their names distinction.
Rather, they formed a progeny by means of writings
and in the books of wisdom which they left.
The papyrus roll became their lector-priest,
the writing-board their loving son;
Books of wisdom were their pyramids,
the reed-pen was their child, smoothed stone their spouse.
In this way great and small became their inheritors;
and the writer was the father of them all!
What they built of gates and chapels are now fallen,
their soul-priests and their gardeners are gone,
Their headstones undiscovered in the dirt,
their very graves forgotten.
But their fame lives on in their papyrus rolls
composed while they were still alive;
And the memory of those who write such books will last
to the end of time and for eternity. ”
from “The Wisdom of Amenemopet”, Ancient Egypt, most likely during the Ramesside Period (ca. 1300 BCE – 1075 BCE) according to the Wikipedia article anyway. Translated by John L. Foster in Ancient Egyptian Literature: An Anthology
This was said to be written by Amenemopet for his son, a scribe named Hor-em-maa-kheru. This quote is from near the end of a long document in a category known as “wisdom texts”, which were often in the form of advice about life from an aging father to his son (although that may or may not sometimes be a fictional element). This particular one has many parallels to the Book of Proverbs in the Bible and may have influenced it.
I wonder how many writers have made this observation, Shakespeare among them. And I wonder how many of those have their words survive the 3000+ years this one survived. Shakespeare says fire won’t destroy his words, but paired with reading Egyptian literature I can only imagine how the world would be different if the library of Alexandria hadn’t burned (a loss that still seems immeasurably sad to me). There’s a lot of luck involved in having your writing stick around this long and be intelligible to the people of the future. But I have to be impressed that this particular musing on the immortality of writing still exists and has been translated. I only hope it and as much other writing as possible survives the next 3000 years. I may hate language due to its distance from reality, but for some things there’s nothing better, and one of those is ensuring your ideas have the possibility of enduring for centuries or even millennia. And this in turn gives the reader the feeling of being able to time travel.
“How splendid you ferry the skyways,
Horus of Twin Horizons,
The needs of each new day
firm in your timeless pattern,
Who fashion the years,
weave months into order —
Days, nights, and the very hours
Move to the gait of your striding
Refreshed by your diurnal shining, you quicken,
bright above yesterday,
Making the zone of night sparkle
although you belong to the light,
Sole one awake there
— sleep is for mortals,
Who go to rest grateful:
your eyes oversee.
And theirs by the millions you open
when your face new-rises, beautiful;
Not a bypath escapes your affection
during your season on earth. ”
from “The Leiden Hymns”, ancient Egypt, circa 1227 BCE. Translated by John L. Foster, from Ancient Egyptian Literature: An Anthology
Now I’m getting into some of the religious writing, and I particularly love how this part of one of the hymns conveys a sense of awe and wonder.
“And with the shape of you I people night,
and thoughts of hot desire grow live within me.
What magic was it in that voice of yours
to bring such singing vigor to my flesh,
To limbs which now lie listless on my bed without you?”
from “I Love You Through the Daytimes”, ancient Egypt, Ramesside Period (1292 BCE - 1070 BCE), translated by John L. Foster in Ancient Egyptian Literature: An Anthology
As may be obvious I’m looking through several books of ancient Egyptian literature at the moment. I’m really enjoying the love poems. What always drives me to read ancient literature is the sense of connection despite unimaginable gulfs of time. I’d never downplay the cultural differences or my interest in them, but there are some things that don’t change much (although attitudes and perceptions of them may change) and love is one of them. And the communication of that love across the millenia makes me absurdly happy and full of awe at the same time.
“To whom shall I speak today?
One’s brothers have become evil
And friends of today have no compassion
To whom shall I speak today?
Hearts are greedy
And every man steals his neighbor’s goods
To whom shall I speak today?
Compassion has perished
And violence attacks everyone
To whom shall I speak today?
Men are pleased with the evil
Which everywhere throws goodness underfoot
To whom shall I speak today?
Though a man be woeful through ill fortune
His evil plight causes all to mock him
To whom shall I speak today?
Men plunder
And everyone robs his comrade
To whom shall I speak today?
A reprobate is my closest friend
And the companion with whom I associated has become a foe
To whom shall I speak today?
There is no remembrance of the past
And men do not treat one in accordance with one’s deeds
To whom shall I speak today?
One’s brothers have become evil
And one turns to strangers for integrity
To whom shall I speak today?
People are indifferent
And every man is sullen to his comrades
To whom shall I speak today?
Hearts have become greedy
And no man has a heart which can be trusted
To whom shall I speak today?
There are no righteous men
And the land is abandoned over to the lawless
To whom shall I speak today?
There is emptiness in faithful friends
And one must turn to strangers for comfort
To whom shall I speak today?
None are contented
And he with whom one walked now is no more
To whom shall I speak today?
I am laden down with sorrow
And there is none to comfort me
To whom shall I speak today?
Evil runs rampant through the land
Endless, endless evil ”
A section from “Dispute Between a Man and His Ba”, from ancient Egypt, Middle Kingdom (2055 BCE - 1650 BCE).
While the subject matter is depressing, this actually gives me hope. The times we are living in often seem like there’s a dark cloud over things messing things up from a small scale all the way up to a huge scale. But that’s also how things seemed to this man (real or fictional) millennia ago (and he was far more despondent than I am), and we are still here. Things may suck in this world for a long time, and humanity will diminish, but some of us will survive. And hell, even if only cats survive and humans don’t, that will be good enough for me.
Wikipedia article on the ba, which ancient Egyptians considered one of many parts of the soul.
 
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