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 Kic has
abandoned it and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold. Ninmah
has abandoned that house Kic and has let the breezes haunt her
sheepfold.
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.
(1 ms. adds 1 line: ...... (partially preserved name of a
goddess) 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.
The protective goddess has abandoned E-tarsirsir 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.
1st kirugu.
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.
Its jicgijal.
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?
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 shrine 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.
O E-tarsirsir, 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?
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?
2nd kirugu.
In his righteous destroyed city its lament is bitter. In his
destroyed Urim its lament is bitter.
Its jicgijal.
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.
The woman, after she had composed her song (?) for the tearful
balaj instrument, herself utters softly a lamentation for the
smitten (?) 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 wretched storm I could not see a good day for my rule, not
one good day for my rule.
"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 of
cities, 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 wretched 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.)
"Because there was bitterness in my Land, I trudged the earth
like a cow for its calf. My Land was not delivered from fear.
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.
"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 wretched storm, heavy spirit, 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.
"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."
3rd kirugu.
Urim has been given over to tears.
Its jicgijal.
"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.
"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".
"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".
"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."
4th kirugu.
Her city has been destroyed in her presence, her powers have
been alienated from her.
Its jicgijal.
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 Kij-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.
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. It attacks the weapons of the city and completely
devours them. At the horizon it ...... -- the people groan. In
front of the storm, heat blazes -- the people groan. The midday
heat burns with the furiously battling storm.
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.
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.
The reaping storm dragged across the Land. Like a flood storm it
completely destroyed the city. The storm that annihilates the
Land set up its powers in 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.
5th kirugu.
The storm, like a lion, has attacked unceasingly -- the people
groan.
Its jicgijal.
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.
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.
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.
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."
6th kirugu.
In her cow-pen, in her sheepfold the woman utters bitter words:
"The city has been destroyed by the storm."
Its jicgijal.
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".
"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.
"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.
"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.
"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"."
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 .......
"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 (?).
"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."
7th kirugu.
"Alas, my city, alas, my house."
Its jicgijal.
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.
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?
Its gudu priest no longer walks in his wig, how is your heart
......! Its en priest no longer lives in the jipar, now how do
you exist? The uzga 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 priest chosen in your ardent heart, he 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.
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
waggons.
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.
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!
8th kirugu.
"My powers have been alienated from me."
Its jicgijal.
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.
9th kirugu.
The storm which does not respect .......
Its jicgijal.
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.
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.
10th kirugu.
Until distant days, other days, future days.
Its jicgijal.
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 smitten 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.
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.
11th kirugu.