The lament for Urim

Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Oxford

This text was translated by the Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Oxford under the auspices of the ETCSL project (see copyright information at the end). My only contribution has been to move it to a verse-like format. I have not as yet made any effort to conform the lines to the lines in the text itself (perhaps later). ETCSL provides a nice tagged transliteration of the original.

Please report errors to me (link at end of page). -Alan Humm

Notes: This composition laments the destruction of Ur(im). The tablets date from approximately the first half of the second milleneum, BC. There are eleven sections of uneven length, each of which the the text calls a kirugu (labeled at the end of each section). S. N. Kramer thinks this means something like “song.” This translation leaves it untranslated. Each of these 11 sections is separated by a brief jicgijal, another untranslated term which Kramer believed to mean something like “antiphon.” Since they are separators there are only ten (none at the beginning or at the end).

1-8 He has abandoned his cow-pen
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold
The wild bull has abandoned his cow-pen
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
The lord of all the lands has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
Enlil has abandoned the shrine Nibru
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
His wife Ninlil has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Ninlil has abandoned that house, the Ki-ur,
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The queen of Kec has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Ninmah has abandoned that house Kec
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
 

9-18 She of Isin has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Ninisina has abandoned the shrine Egal-mah
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The queen of Unug has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Inana has abandoned that house Unug
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Nanna has abandoned Urim and
    has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
Suen has abandoned E-kic-nu-jal
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
His wife Ningal has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Ningal has abandoned her Agrun-kug
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The wild bull of Eridug has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
Enki has abandoned that house Eridug
        and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
 

18A-26 {(1 ms. adds 1 line:)
Nin[...] has abandoned that house Larag
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.}
Cara has abandoned E-mah
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
Ud-sahara has abandoned that house Umma
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Bau has abandoned Iri-kug
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
She has abandoned her flooded chamber
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Her son Ab-Bau has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
Ab-Bau has abandoned Ma-gu-ena
    and has let the breezes haunt his sheepfold.
The protective goddess of the holy house has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
 

26-34 The protective goddess has abandoned E-tar-sirsir
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The mother of Lagac has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Jatumdug has abandoned that house Lagac
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
She of Nijin has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The great queen has abandoned that house Sirara
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
She of Kinirca has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Dumuzid-abzu has abandoned that house Kinirca
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
She of Gu-aba has abandoned it
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
Ninmarki has abandoned the shrine Gu-aba
    and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
 

35

[end of] 1st kirugu.

36-37 She has let the breeze haunt her sheepfold,
    she groans grievously over it.
O cow, your lowing no longer fills the byre,
    the cow-pen no longer brings joy (?) to the prince.
38

Its jicgijal.

39-46 O city, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
Your lament is bitter, O city,
    the lament made for you.
In his righteous destroyed city
    its lament is bitter.
In his righteous destroyed Urim,
    the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
Your lament is bitter, O city,
    the lament made for you.
In his destroyed Urim
    its lament is bitter.
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve your lord who weeps?
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve Nanna who weeps?
 

47-55 O brick-built Urim, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O E-kic-nu-jal, your lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O shrine Agrun-kug, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O great place Ki-ur, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O shrine Nibru, city, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O brick-built E-kur, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O Ja-jic-cua, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O Ubcu-unkena, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O brick-built Iri-kug, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
 

56-63 O E-tar-sirsir, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O Ma-gu-ena, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O brick-built Isin, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O shrine Egal-mah, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O brick-built Unug, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
O brick-built Eridug, the lament is bitter,
    the lament made for you.
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve your lord who weeps?
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve Nanna who weeps?
 

64-71 O city, your name exists
    but you have been destroyed.
O city, your wall rises high
    but your Land has perished.
O my city, like an innocent ewe
    your lamb has been torn from you.
O Urim, like an innocent goat
    your kid has perished.
O city, your rites
    have been alienated from you,
    your powers have been changed into alien powers.
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve your lord who weeps?
How long will your bitter lament
    grieve Nanna who weeps?
 

72

[End of] 2nd kirugu

73-74 In his righteous destroyed city its lament is bitter.
    In his destroyed Urim its lament is bitter.
75

Its jicgijal

76-84 Together with the lord whose house had been devastated,
    his city was given over to tears.
Together with Nanna whose Land had perished,
    Urim joined the lament.
The good woman,
    to disquiet the lord concerning his city,
Ningal, to give him no rest concerning his Land,
    approached him for the sake of his city—
    bitterly she weeps.
She approached the lord for the sake of his house—
    bitterly she weeps.
She approached him for the sake of his devastated city—
    bitterly she weeps.
She approached him for the sake of his devastated house—
    before him she makes its bitter lament.
 

85-94 The woman, after she had composed her song (?)
    for the tearful balaj instrument,
    herself utters softly a lamentation for the silent house:
        “The storm that came to be—
            its lamentation hangs heavy on me.
        Raging about because of the storm,
            I am the woman for whom the storm came to be.
        The storm that came to be—
            its lamentation hangs heavy on me.
        The bitter storm having come to be for me during the day,
            I trembled on account of that day
            but I did not flee before the day's violence.
        Because of this debilitating storm
            I could not see a good day for my rule,
            not one good day for my rule.”
 

95-100A          “The bitter lament having come
            to be for me during the night,
        I trembled on account of that night but I
            did not flee before the night's violence.
        The awesomeness of this storm,
            destructive as the flood, truly hangs heavy on me.
        Because of its existence, in my nightly sleeping place,
            even in my nightly sleeping place truly there was no peace for me.
        Nor, because of this debilitating storm,
            was the quiet of my sleeping place,
            not even the quiet of my sleeping place, allowed to me.
        {(2 mss. add 1 line:) Truly I did not forsake my Land.}”
 

101-111          “Because there was bitterness in my Land,
            I trudged the earth like a cow for its calf.
        My Land was not granted succcess.
        Because there was bitter distress in my city,
            I beat my wings like a bird of heaven and flew to my city;
        and my city was destroyed in its foundations;
            and Urim perished where it lay.
        Because the hand of the storm appeared above,
            I screamed and cried to it “Return, O storm, to the plain.”
        The storm's breast did not rise.”
 

112-122          “To me, the woman, in the Agrun-kug,
            my house of queenship, they did not grant a reign of distant days.
        Indeed they established weeping and lamentation for me.
        As for the house which used to be
            where the spirit of the black-headed people was soothed,
            instead of its festivals wrath and terror indeed multiply.
        Because of this debilitating storm,
            depression, and lament and bitterness,
        lament and bitterness have been brought into my house,
            the favourable place,
            my devastated righteous house upon which no eye had been cast.
        My house founded by the righteous
            was pushed over on its side like a garden fence.”
 

123-132          “For E-kic-nu-jal, my house of royalty, the good house,
            my house which has been given over to tears,
        they granted to me as its lot and share: its building,
            falsely, and its perishing, truly.
        Wind and rain have been made to fall on it, as onto a tent,
            a shelter on the denuded harvest ground,
            as onto a shelter on the denuded harvest ground.
        Urim, my all-surpassing chamber, the house and the smitten city,
            all have been uprooted.
        Like a shepherd's sheepfold it has been uprooted.
            The swamp has swallowed my possessions accumulated in the city.”
 

133

[End of] 3rd kirugu

134 Urim has been given over to tears.
135

Its jicgijal

136-143          “On that day, when such a storm had pounded,
            when in the presence of the queen her city had been destroyed,
        on that day, when such a storm had been created,
            when they had pronounced the utter destruction of my city,
        when they had pronounced the utter destruction of Urim,
            when they had directed that its people be killed,
        on that day I did not abandon my city, I did not forsake my land.”
 

144-150          “Truly I shed my tears before An.
            Truly I myself made supplication to Enlil.
        ‘Let not my city be destroyed,’ I implored them.
            ‘Let not Urim be destroyed,’ I implored them.
            ‘Let not its people perish,’ I implored them.
        But An did not change that word.
            Enlil did not soothe my heart with an ‘It is good—so be it.’”
 

151-160          “A second time,
            when the council had settled itself in the pre-eminent place,
            and the Anuna had seated themselves to ratify decisions,
            I prostrated (?) myself and stretched out my arms.
        Truly I shed my tears before An.
            Truly I myself made supplication to Enlil.
        ‘Let not my city be destroyed,’ I implored them.
             ‘Let not Urim be destroyed,’ I implored them.
             ‘Let not its people perish,’ I implored them.
        But An did not change that word.
             Enlil did not soothe my heart with an ‘It is good—so be it.’”
 

161-168          “They gave instructions that my city should be utterly destroyed.
            They gave instructions that Urim should be utterly destroyed.
            They decreed its destiny that its people should be killed.
        In return for the speech (?) which I had given them,
            they both bound me together with my city
            and also bound my Urim together with me.
        An is not one to change his command,
            and Enlil does not alter what he has uttered.”
 

169

[End of] 4th kirugu

170 Her city has been destroyed in her presence,
        her powers have been alienated from her.
171

Its jicgijal

172-178 Enlil called the storm—
    the people groan.
He brought the storm of abundance away from the Land—
    the people groan.
He brought the good storm away from Sumer—
    the people groan.
He issued directions to the evil storm—
    the people groan.
He entrusted it to Kin-gal-uda,
    the keeper of the storm.
He called upon the storm that annihilates the Land—
    the people groan.
He called upon the evil gales—
    the people groan.
 

179-187 Enlil brought Gibil as his aid.
He called the great storm of heaven—
    the people groan.
The great storm howls above—
    the people groan.
The storm that annihilates the Land roars below—
    the people groan.
The evil wind, like a rushing torrent,
    cannot be restrained.
The weapons in the city smash heads
    and consume indiscriminately.
The storm whirled gloom around the base of the horizon—
    the people groan.
In front of the storm, heat blazes—
    the people groan.
A fiery glow burns with the raging storm.
 

188-191 After the haze had lifted at noon,
    he made fires blaze.
He locked up the day and the rising of the bright sun
    together with the good storm.
In the Land he did not let the bright sun rise;
    it shone like the evening star.
In the delightful night, the time when coolness sets in,
    he redoubled the south wind.
 

192-196 The scorching potsherds made the dust glow (?)—
    the people groan.
He swept the winds over the black-headed people—
    the people groan.
Sumer was overturned by a snare—
    the people groan.
It attacked (?) the Land
    and devoured it completely.
Tears cannot influence the bitter storm—
    the people groan.
 

197-203 The reaping storm dragged across the Land.
    Like a flood storm it completely destroyed the city.
The storm that annihilates the Land silenced the city.
    The storm that will make anything vanish came doing evil.
    The storm blazing like fire performed its task upon the people.
The storm ordered by Enlil in hate,
    the storm which wears away the Land,
    covered Urim like a garment,
    was spread out over it like linen.
 

204

[End of] 5th kirugu

205 The storm, like a lion, has attacked unceasingly—
    the people groan.
206

Its jicgijal

207-217 Then the storm was removed from the city,
    that city reduced to ruin mounds.
It was removed from Father Nanna's city reduced to ruin mounds—
    the people groan.
Then, the storm was taken from the Land—
    the people groan.
{(2 mss. add 1 line:) The good storm was taken from Sumer—
    the people groan.}
Its people littered its outskirts
    just as if they might have been broken potsherds.
Breaches had been made in its walls—
    the people groan.
On its lofty city-gates where walks had been taken,
    corpses were piled.
On its boulevards where festivals had been held,
    heads lay scattered (?).
In all its streets where walks had been taken,
    corpses were piled.
In its places where the dances of the Land had taken place,
    people were stacked in heaps.
They made the blood of the Land
    flow down the wadis like copper or tin.
Its corpses, like fat left in the sun,
    melted away of themselves.
 

218-229 The heads of its men slain by the axe
    were not covered with a cloth.
Like a gazelle caught in a trap,
    their mouths bit the dust.
Men struck down by the spear
    were not bound with bandages.
As if in the place where their mothers had laboured,
    they lay in their own blood.
Its men who were finished off by the battle-mace
    were not bandaged with new (?) cloth.
Although they were not drunk with strong drink,
    their necks drooped on their shoulders.
He who stood up to the weapon was crushed by the weapon—
    the people groan.
He who ran away from it was overwhelmed (?) by the storm—
    the people groan.
The weak and the strong of Urim perished from hunger.
Mothers and fathers who did not leave their houses
    were consumed by fire.
The little ones lying in their mothers' arms
    were carried off like fish by the waters.
Among the nursemaids with their strong embrace,
    the embrace was pried open.
 

230-240 The Land's judgment disappeared—
    the people groan.
The Land's counsel was swallowed by a swamp—
    the people groan.
The mother absconded before her child's eyes—
    the people groan.
The father turned away from his child—
    the people groan.
In the city the wife was abandoned, the child was abandoned,
    possessions were scattered about.
The black-headed people
    were carried off from their strongholds.
Its queen like a bird in fright
    departed from her city.
Ningal like a bird in fright
    departed from her city.
All the treasures accumulated in the Land
    were defiled.
In all the storehouses abounding in the Land
    fires were kindled.
In its ponds Gibil, the purifier,
    relentlessly did his work.
 

241-249 The good house of the lofty untouchable mountain,
    E-kic-nu-jal, was entirely devoured by large axes.
The people of Cimacki and Elam, the destroyers,
    counted its worth as only thirty shekels.
They broke up the good house with pickaxes.
    They reduced the city to ruin mounds.
Its queen cried,
     “Alas, my city,” cried, “Alas, my house.”
Ningal cried,
     “Alas, my city,”     cried, “Alas, my house.
     As for me, the woman, both my city has been destroyed
        and my house has been destroyed.
    O Nanna, the shrine Urim has been destroyed
        and its people have been killed.”
 

250

[End of] 6th kirugu

251-252 In her cow-pen, in her sheepfold the woman utters bitter words:
     “The city has been destroyed by the storm.”
253

Its jicgijal

254-264 Mother Ningal, like an enemy,
    stands outside her city.
The woman laments bitterly over her devastated house.
Over her devastated shrine Urim, the princess bitterly declares:
        “An has indeed cursed my city,
            my city has been destroyed before me.
        Enlil has indeed transformed my house,
            it has been smitten by pickaxes.
        On my ones coming from the south
            he hurled fire.
        Alas, my city has indeed been destroyed before me.
        On my ones coming from the highlands
            Enlil hurled flames.
        Outside the city, the outer city was destroyed before me—
            I shall cry ‘Alas, my city.’
        Inside the city, the inner city was destroyed before me—
            I shall cry ‘Alas, my city.’
        My houses of the outer city were destroyed—
            I shall cry ‘Alas, my houses.’
        My houses of the inner city were destroyed—
            I shall cry ‘Alas, my houses.’”
 

265-274          “My city no longer multiplies for me like good ewes,
            its good shepherd is gone.
        Urim no longer multiplies for me like good ewes,
            its shepherd boy is gone.
        My bull no longer crouches in its cow-pen,
            its herdsman is gone.
        My sheep no longer crouch in their fold,
            their herdsman is gone.
        In the river of my city dust has gathered,
            and the holes of foxes have been dug there.
        In its midst no flowing water is carried,
            its tax-collector is gone.
        In the fields of my city there is no grain,
            their farmer is gone.
        My fields, like fields from which the hoe has been kept away (?),
            have grown tangled (?) weeds.
        My orchards and gardens that produced abundant syrup and wine
            have grown mountain thornbushes.
        My plain that used to be covered in its luxurious verdure
            has become cracked (?) like a kiln.”
 

275-285          “My possessions, like a flock of rooks rising up,
            have risen in flight—
            I shall cry ‘O my possessions.’
        He who came from the south
            has carried my possessions off to the south—
            I shall cry ‘O my possessions.’
        He who came from the highlands
            has carried my possessions off to the highlands—
            I shall cry ‘O my possessions.’
        My silver, gems and lapis lazuli
            have been scattered about—
            I shall cry ‘O my possessions.’
        The swamp
            has swallowed my treasures—
            I shall cry ‘O my possessions.’
        Men ignorant of silver
            have filled their hands with my silver.
        Men ignorant of gems
            have fastened my gems around their necks.
        My small birds and fowl have flown away—
            I shall say ‘Alas, my city.’
        My slave-girls and children have been carried off by boat—
            I shall say ‘Alas, my city.’
        Woe is me,
            my slave-girls bear strange emblems in a strange city.
        My young men mourn
            in a desert they do not know.”
 

286-291          “Woe is me, my city which no longer exists—
            I am not its queen.
        Nanna, Urim which no longer exists—
            I am not its owner.
        I am the good woman whose house has been made into ruins,
            whose city has been destroyed,
            in place of whose city a strange city has been built.
        I am Ningal whose city has been made into ruins,
            whose house has been destroyed,
            in place of whose house a strange house has been built.”
 

292-298          “Woe is me, the city has been destroyed,
            my house too has been destroyed.
        Nanna, the shrine Urim has been destroyed,
            its people killed.
        Woe is me, where can I sit,
            where can I stand?
        Woe is me, in place of my city
            a strange house is being erected.
        I am the good woman in place of whose house
            a strange city is being built.
        Upon its removal from its place, from the plain,
            I shall say ‘Alas, my people.’
        Upon my city's removal from Urim,
            I shall say ‘Alas, my house.’”
 

299-309 The woman tears at her hair
    as if it were rushes.
She beats the holy ub drum at her chest, she cries
     “Alas, my city.”
Her eyes well with tears, she weeps bitterly:
        “Woe is me, my city which no longer exists—
            I am not its queen.
        Nanna, the shrine Urim which no longer exists—
            I am not its owner.
        Woe is me, I am one whose cow-pen has been torn down,
            I am one whose cows have been scattered.
        I am Ningal on whose ewes the weapon has fallen,
            as in the case of an unworthy herdsman.
        Woe is me, I have been exiled from the city,
            I can find no rest.
        I am Ningal, I have been exiled from the house,
            I can find no dwelling place.
        I am sitting as if a stranger with head high
            in a strange city.
        Debt-slaves ...... bitterness .......”
 

310-320          “I am one who,
            sitting in a debtors prison among its inmates,
            can make no extravagant claims.
        In that place I approached him for the sake of his city—
            I weep bitterly.
        I approached the lord for the sake of his house—
            I weep bitterly.
        I approached him for the sake of his destroyed house—
            I weep bitterly.
        I approached him for the sake of his destroyed city—
            I weep bitterly.
        Woe is me, I shall say
             ‘Fate of my city, bitter is the fate of my city.’
        I the queen shall say
            ‘O my destroyed house, bitter is the fate of my house.’
                    O my brick-built Urim which has been flooded,
                    which has been washed away,
            O my good house,
                    my city which has been reduced to ruin mounds,
            in the debris of your destroyed righteous house,
                    I shall lie down alongside you.
            Like a fallen bull,
                    I will never rise up from your wall (?).’”
 

321-327          “Woe is me, untrustworthy was your building,
            and bitter your destruction.
        I am the woman at whose shrine Urim
            the food offerings have been terminated.
        O my Agrun-kug, the all-new house
            whose charms never sated me,
        O my city no longer regarded as having been built—
            devastated for what reason?
        O my house both destroyed and devastated—
            devastated for what reason?
        Nobody at all escaped
            the force of the storm ordered in hate.
        O my house of Suen in Urim,
            bitter was its destruction.”
 

328

[End of] 7th kirugu

329 “Alas, my city, alas, my house.”
330

Its jicgijal

331-341 O queen, how is your heart ......!
    How you have become!
O Ningal, how is your heart ......!
    How you have become!
O good woman whose city has been destroyed,
    now how do you exist?
O Ningal whose Land has perished,
    how is your heart ......!
After your city has been destroyed,
    now how do you exist?
After your house has been destroyed,
    how is your heart ......!
Your city has become a strange city,
    now how do you exist?
Your house has turned to tears,
    how is your heart ......!
You are not a bird of your city
    which has been reduced to ruin mounds.
You cannot live there as a resident
    in your good house given over to the pickaxe.
You cannot act as queen
    of a people led off to slaughter.
 

342-347 Your tears have become strange tears,
    your Land no longer weeps.
With no lamentation prayers,
    it dwells in foreign lands.
Your Land like .......
Your city has been made into ruins;
    now how do you exist?
Your house has been laid bare,
    how is your heart ......!
Urim, the shrine, is haunted by the breezes,
    now how do you exist?
 

348-358 Its gudug priest no longer walks in his wig,
    how is your heart ......!
Its en priestess no longer lives in the jipar,
    now how do you exist?
In the uzga shrine the priest who cherishes purification rites
    makes no purification rites for you.
Father Nanna, your icib priest .
    does not make perfect holy supplications to you.
Your lumah priest does not dress in linen
    in your holy giguna shrine.
Your righteous en priestess chosen in your ardent heart,
    she of the E-kic-nu-jal,
    does not proceed joyously from the shrine to the jipar.
The aua priests
    do not celebrate the festivals in your house of festivals.
They do not play for you the cem and ala instruments
    which gladden the heart, nor the tigi.
The black-headed people do not bathe during your festivals.
Like ...... mourning has been decreed for them;
    their appearance has indeed changed.
 

359-368 Your song has been turned into weeping before you—
    how long will this last?
Your tigi music has been turned into lamentation before you—
    how long will this last?
Your bull is not brought into its pen,
    its fat is not prepared for you.
Your sheep does not live in its fold,
    its milk is not made abundant for you.
Your fat carrier does not come to you from the cow-pen—
    how long will this last?
Your milk carrier does not come to you from the sheepfold—
    how long will this last?
An evildoer has seized your fisherman who was carrying fish—
    how long will this last?
Lightning carried off your fowler who was carrying birds—
    how long will this last?
The teme plants grow in the middle of your watercourses
    which were once suitable for barges,
and mountain thornbushes grow on your roads
    which had been constructed for wagons.
 

369-377 My queen, your city weeps
    before you as its mother.
Urim, like a child lost in a street,
    seeks a place before you.
Your house, like a man who has lost everything,
    stretches out (?) its hands to you.
Your brick-built righteous house, like a human being, cries
     “Where are you?”
My queen, you have indeed left the house,
    you have left the city.
How long will you
    stand aside from your city like an enemy?
Mother Ningal,
    you confronted your city like an enemy.
Although you are a queen who loves her city,
    you abandoned your sheepfold.
Although you are one who cares for her Land,
    you set it on fire.
 

378-386 Mother Ningal, return like a bull to your cattle-pen,
    like a sheep to your fold,
    like a bull to your cattle-pen of former days,
    like a sheep to your fold.
My queen, like a young child to your room,
    return to your house.
May An, king of the gods,
    declare “Enough!” to you.
May Enlil, king of all the lands,
    decree your fate.
May he restore your city for you—
    exercise its queenship!
May he restore Nibru for you—
    exercise its queenship!
May he restore Urim for you—
    exercise its queenship!
May he restore Isin for you—
    exercise its queenship!
 

387

[End of] 8th kirugu

388 “My powers have been alienated from me.”
389

Its jicgijal

390-398 Alas, storm after storm swept the Land together:
    the great storm of heaven,
the ever-roaring storm,
    the malicious storm which swept over the Land,
the storm which destroyed cities,
    the storm which destroyed houses,
    the storm which destroyed cow-pens,
    the storm which burned sheepfolds,
which laid hands on the holy rites,
    which defiled the weighty counsel,
the storm which cut off all that is good from the Land,
    the storm which pinioned the arms
    of the black-headed people.
 

399

[End of] 9th kirugu

400 The storm which does not respect .......
401

Its jicgijal

402-410 The storm which knows no mother,
    the storm which knows no father,
    the storm which knows no wife,
    the storm which knows no child,
    the storm which knows no sister,
    the storm which knows no brother,
    the storm which knows no neighbour,
    the storm which knows no female companion,
    the storm which caused the wife to be abandoned,
        which caused the child to be abandoned,
    the storm which caused the light in the Land to disappear,
    the storm which swept through, ordered in hate by Enlil—
Father Nanna, may that storm swoop down no more on your city.
    May your black-headed people see it no more.
 

411-416 May that storm,
    like rain pouring down from heaven,
    never recur.
May that storm,
    which struck down all the black-headed living beings of heaven and earth,
    be entirely destroyed.
May the door be closed on it,
    like the great city-gate at night-time.
May that storm not be given a place in the reckoning,
    may its record be hung from a nail
    outside the house of Enlil.
 

417

[End of] 10th kirugu

418 Until distant days, other days, future days.
419

Its jicgijal

420-426 From distant days
    when the Land was founded, O Nanna,
the humble people who lay hold of your feet
    have brought to you their tears for the silent house,
    playing music before you.
May the black-headed people,
    cast away from you, make obeisance to you.
In your city reduced to ruin mounds
    may a lament be made to you.
O Nanna, may your restored city
    be resplendent before you.
Like a bright heavenly star may it not be destroyed,
    may it pass before you.
 

427-437 The personal deity of a man brings you a greeting gift;
    a supplicant utters prayers to you.
Nanna, you who have mercy on the Land, Lord Acimbabbar—
    as concerns him who speaks your heart's desire,
Nanna, after you have absolved that man's sin,
    may your heart relent towards him
    who utters prayers to you.
{(3 mss. add 1 line:) The personal deity of this man
    brings you a present.}
He looks favourably on the man
    who stands there with his offering.
Nanna, you whose penetrating gaze searches hearts,
    may its people who suffered that evil storm
    be pure before you.
May the hearts of your people who dwell in the Land
    be pure before you.
Nanna, in your restored city
    may you be fittingly praised.
 

438

[End of] 11th kirugu

Copyright 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 The ETCSL project,
Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Oxford

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