BABYLONIAN LITERARY TEXTS IN THE SCHO
/ YEN COLLECTION
The publication of
CORNELL UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN ASSYRIOLOGY AND SUMEROLOGY
Volume 10
was made possible thanks to a generous subvention from an
anonymous donor
and from
The Occasional Publication Fund
Department of Near Eastern Studies
Cornell University
Cornell University Studies in
Assyriology and Sumerology
(CUSAS)
Volume 10
MANUSCRIPTS IN THE SCHO
/ YEN COLLECTION
CUNEIFORM TEXTS IV
Babylonian Literary Texts
in the Schøyen Collection
by
A. R. George
CDL Press
Bethesda, Maryland
2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication
George, A.R.
Babylonian literary texts in the Schøyen Collection / by A.R. George.
p. cm. — (Cornell University studies in Assyriology and Sumerology; v. 10)
ISBN 978-1934309-094
1. Akkadian language-—Texts. 2. Assyro-Babylonian literature--History and criticism. 3. Schøyen Collection.
I. Title. II. Series.
PJ3711.D349 2009
892'.1—dc22
2009016621
Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
***
David I. Owen
(Cornell University)
___
EDITORIAL COMMITTEE
***
Robert K. Englund
(University of California, Los Angeles)
Wolfgang Heimpel
(University of California, Berkeley)
Rudolf H. Mayr
(Lawrenceville, New Jersey)
Manuel Molina
(Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Madrid)
Francesco Pomponio
(University of Messina)
Walther Sallaberger
(University of Munich)
Marten Stol
(Leiden)
Karel Van Lerberghe
(University of Leuven)
Aage Westenholz
(University of Copenhagen)
Copyright 2009. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form
(beyond that copying permitted in Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by
reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publisher, CDL Press, P.O. Box
34454, Bethesda, Md. 20827.
Table of Contents
Statement of Provenance (Ownership history), by Martin Schøyen ..................... vii
Series Editor’s Preface, by David I. Owen ............................................................ ix
Acknowledgments ..................................................................................... xi
Abbreviations .................................................................................................... xiii
Introduction ....................................................................................................... xv
Catalogue ......................................................................................................... xvii
Concordances ................................................................................................... xix
A. Narrative Poetry
1. The Song of Bazi .................................................................................... 1
2. A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns ............................................ 16
3. A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s ....................................................... 26
4. A Fragment of GilgameÍ ...................................................................... 28
5. GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest ............................................... 29
6. Fragments of GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest............................ 37
B. Praise Poetry
7. A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida............................................................. 42
C. Love Poetry and Related Compositions
8. Oh Girl, Whoopee! ............................................................................ 50
9. I Shall Be a Slave to You ...................................................................... 54
10. A Field Full of Salt ............................................................................... 60
11. May She Throw herself at Me! A Love Incantation .............................. 67
12. In the Light of the Window: Incipits of Love Songs and Other Poems? . 71
D. Prose
13. A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus ........................................................ 76
14. The Scholars of Uruk ........................................................................... 78
15. A Literary Letter of Sin-muballiˇ ........................................................ 113
16. A Son’s Request.................................................................................. 121
17. The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk .................................................... 123
18. A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions .......................................................... 153
19. A Tablet of Riddles ............................................................................ 156
References ......................................................................................................... 157
Cuneiform Texts .............................................................................. Plates I–LXIII
v
Statement of Provenance
(OWNERSHIP HISTORY)
14. Henderson Collection, Boston,
Massachusetts (1930s–50s)
15. Pottesman Collection, London (1904–78)
16. Geuthner Collection, France (1960s–80s)
17. Harding Smith Collection, UK (1893–
1922)
These collections are the source of almost
all the tablets, seals, and incantation bowls. Other items were acquired through the auction
houses Christie’s and Sotheby’s, where in some
cases the names of their former owners were not
revealed.
The sources of the oldest collections, such
as Amherst, Harding Smith, and Cumberland
Clark, were antiquities dealers who acquired
tablets in the Near East in the 1890s to 1930s.
During this period many tens of thousands of
tablets came on the market, in the summers of
1893 and 1894 alone some 30,000 tablets. While
many of these were bought by museums, others
were acquired by private collectors. Some of
the older private collections were the source of
some of the later collections. For instance, a
large number of the tablets in the Crouse collection came from the Cumberland Clark,
Kohanim, Amherst, and Simmonds collections,
among others. The Claremont tablets came
from the Schaeffer collection, and the Dring
tablets came from the Harding Smith collection.
In most cases the original findspots of tablets
that came on the market in the 1890s to 1930s
are unknown, like great parts of the holdings of
most major museums in Europe and the United
States. The general original archaeological context of the tablets and seals is the libraries and
archives of numerous temples, palaces, schools,
The holdings of pictographic and cuneiform tablets, seals, and incantation bowls in the
Schøyen Collection were collected in the late
1980s and 1990s and derive from a great variety
of collections and sources. It would not have
been possible to collect so many items, of such
major textual importance, if it had not been
based on the endeavor of some of the greatest
collectors in earlier times. Collections that once
held tablets, seals, or incantation bowls now in
the Schøyen Collection are:
1. Institute of Antiquity and Christianity,
Claremont Graduate School, Claremont,
California (1970–94)
2. Erlenmeyer Collection and Foundation,
Basel (ca 1935–88)
3. Cumberland Clark Collection,
Bournemouth, UK (1920s–1941)
4. Lord Amherst of Hackney, UK (1894–
1909)
5. Crouse Collection, Hong Kong and New
England (1920s–80s)
6. Dring Collection, Surrey, UK (1911–90)
7. Rihani collection, Irbid and Amman,
Jordan (before 1965–88) and London
(1988–)
8. Lindgren Collection, San Francisco,
California (1965–85)
9. Rosenthal Collection, San Francisco,
California (1953–88)
10. Kevorkian Collection, New York (ca
1930–59) and Fund (1960–77)
11. Kohanim Collection, Tehran, Paris and
London (1959–85)
12. Simmonds Collection, UK (1944–87)
13. Schaeffer Collection, Collège de France,
Zürich (1950s)
vii
viii
Babylonian Literary Texts
houses and administrative centers in Sumer,
Elam, Babylonia, Assyria, and various city states
in present-day Syria, Turkey, Iraq, and Iran.
Many details of this context will not be known
until all texts in both private and public collections have been published and compared to each
other.
Martin Schøyen
MANUSCRIPTS IN THE SCHØYEN COLLECTION
CUNEIFORM TEXTS
Vol. I. Jöran Friberg, A Remarkable Collection of Babylonian Mathematical Texts
Sources and Studies in the History of Mathematics and Physical Sciences
New York: Springer, 2007
Vol. II. Bendt Alster, Sumerian Proverbs in the Schøyen Collection
Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 2
Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2007
Vol. III. Stephanie Dalley, Babylonian Tablets from the First Sealand Dynasty in the Schøyen Collection
Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 9
Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2009
Vol. IV. A. R. George, Babylonian Literary Texts in the Schøyen Collection
Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 10
Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2009
Other volumes in preparation
Series Editor’s Preface
collections, in spite of the objections of a small
but vocal minority. These and other such publications will inevitably contribute substantially
to the subsequent study of Mesopotamian literature, history, and culture, regardless of these
objections.
We are most grateful to those scholars—
Wilfred Lambert, Stefan Maul, and Konrad
Volk—who aided and encouraged George in
the study of these fascinating texts and, in particular, to Martin Schøyen for permission to include this volume from the Schøyen Collection
in the CUSAS series. Thanks to his interest and
encouragement we have been able to expedite
its appearance. We are grateful also to the anonymous donor and to the Occasional Publication
Fund of the Department of Near Eastern Studies, Cornell University, for the generous subsidies that made this publication possible.
The study and publication of literary texts
from Mesopotamia probably attracts the widest
interest among scholars and the general public.
The Schøyen Collection contains an unusually
rich and varied sampling of both Sumerian and
Babylonian literary compositions, both known
and hitherto unknown. It is thus of great significance that we are able to publish this edition
by Andrew George of eighteen Babylonian literary compositions, the third volume in this
series from the Schøyen Collection and, I am
happy to add, not the last. Following upon his
remarkable edition of the Gilgamesh Epic,
George now provides a potpourri of these new
and often difficult Babylonian texts. Furthermore, thanks to Miguel Civil’s preliminary
study, the outstanding Sumerian literary texts
are also being prepared for publication. No
existing private collection contains such a
diverse selection of literary compositions and it
is imperative that these texts be studied and
published quickly so that they can be integrated
into the existing corpus. Each new text discovery, excavated or otherwise without context,
usually adds additional components to what we
know of the range of literary production in
Babylonia. However, this publication also provides some unexpected surprises. It continues
to set an example to all of the need and importance to publish texts, even without established
context, that are available in private and public
David I. Owen
Curator of Tablet Collections
Jonathan and Jeannette Rosen
Ancient Near Eastern Seminar
Department of Near Eastern Studies
Cornell University
Ithaca, New York
April 2009
ix
Acknowledgments
ed and published is a driving force behind the
series Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection
and represents both a fine example to collectors
of antiquities and a signal service to scholarship
and knowledge. When, in time, the rich contents of his collection become better known, it
will be clear that Mr Schøyen has saved for posterity a highly important resource for all
engaged in the recovery of the intellectual and
cultural legacy of the ancient world.
These three individuals have been instrumental in bringing the tablets of the Schøyen
Collection to the attention of scholars worldwide, in facilitating the study of them by visiting academics, and in helping work on the collection slowly to bear fruit. To them I express
my especial gratitude and admiration.
My work on tablets in the Schøyen Collection has also been helped by a personal research
grant from the British Academy and by research
funds placed at my disposal by the School of
Oriental and African Studies, the University of
London. These monies enabled me to make
many visits to Norway between 2005 and 2008
to study, copy and collate the cuneiform tablets
published here, as well as other tablets that will
appear in succeeding volumes of divinatory and
historical texts. The School of Oriental and
African Studies offset the cost of scanning the
cuneiform copies in preparation for their publication. The photographs of cuneiform tablets
published in this volume are reproduced by
kind permission of Professor Braarvig and Mr
Schøyen. I am grateful also to Dr David I.
Owen of Cornell University for accepting this
volume into the series Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology.
It is a pleasure here to acknowledge those
who have made this volume possible. Dr Renee
Kovacs began the process of matching the
cuneiform treasures of the Schøyen Collection
with interested scholars. It was her vision to
establish a publication project under the title
Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection, Cuneiform Texts. The series reaches its fourth volume with the publication of this book. Dr
Kovacs first introduced me to Mr Schøyen’s
tablets, assigned the Old Babylonian literary
texts to me for study and publication, and provided me with preliminary photographs of
some pieces. Her withdrawal from participation
in the publication project as a whole in 2005 left
me with the responsibility for co-ordinating the
project, a task made much easier by the meticulous databases and notes she passed on to me.
Professor Jens Braarvig of the University of
Oslo initiated the systematic conservation and
photography of the Schøyen Collection’s cuneiform tablets under the auspices of first the Norwegian Academy of Science and Letters and
then the Norwegian Institute for Palaeography
and Historical Philology (PHI for short). He
generously arranged for the subsidy of some of
my early stays in Oslo, facilitated my work at
PHI in ways too numerous to mention, and
continues to combine a tremendous gift for
friendship with an abiding interest in the contents and destiny of the Schøyen Collection’s
tablets.
Mr Martin Schøyen first welcomed me to
his collection in 2001 and has repeated his hospitality many times since then. His collection
arose from a deep intellectual engagement with
manuscripts from all periods and places. His
desire to have them properly preserved, record-
xi
xii
Babylonian Literary Texts
I am not the first Assyriologist to study some
of the texts presented here. At some time the
tablets bearing Texts Nos. 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 11, 14, 17
and 18 passed through the hands of Professor W.
G. Lambert and were thereafter accompanied
by his written comments, sometimes brief, usually extensive, always illuminating. Text No. 8
likewise carries with it an unsigned testimonial
by another hand. I have been very fortunate in
thus having pilots to steer me through often difficult waters. Where I have still managed to hit
the rocks, it is my own inept navigation that is to
blame.
The task of decipherment and analysis was
enhanced by a series of seminar presentations.
Invitations to read individual tablets in seminar
at Heidelberg in 2005 and Tübingen in 2008
were gladly accepted from Professors Stefan
Maul and Konrad Volk. I am most grateful to
them for making these readings possible, profitable, and enjoyable. A commitment to regular
seminars in Norway and England ensured no
shirking the onward march of progress on the
volume. In Oslo these were hosted by Professor
Braarvig, first at PHI when it occupied premises
in Drammensveien and later at the Department
of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages, the
University of Oslo. I recall with happiness many
invigorating discussions and much fine hospitality. In London I was able to read all these tablets
with colleagues, students, and visitors in a regular seminar at the School of Oriental and African Studies, which has become known as the
London Cuneiforum, in shameless emulation of
the Cuneiforum established in the 1990s by Professor J. N. Postgate at the annual conference of
the British Association for Near Eastern Archaeology.
It is hardly necessary to declare that reading
these texts in seminar helped sharpen my understanding in many ways. If I single out three members of the London Cuneiforum for individual
acknowledgment, Professor M. J. Geller, Dr.
Daniel Schwemer, and Mr. Frans van Koppen,
I hope I shall not injure the feelings of others in
Oslo, London, and Germany who also made a
contribution to unlocking the secrets of these
often difficult texts.
My last duty is the most pleasant one. I first
met Mrs. Elizabeth Gano Sørenssen in 2001
when she picked me up in her old and battered
white van from a tiny provincial station and
drove me across rough dirt roads to Mr. Schøyen’s farmhouse. Though Elizabeth was employed as the Schøyen Collection’s librarian, I
soon learned that the job description knew no
bounds and that the van was equally versatile.
When the tablets later moved from Oslo to their
present location, it was Elizabeth’s job to load
them into the same old van and take them back
to Oslo to meet visiting scholars at PHI. More
recently a newer, red van has had the job of
fetching me from the station and delivering me
back again, and Elizabeth’s house has become
my home in Norway. She is a woman of tremendous vigor leavened with a wise respect for
the superior forces of chaos: one summer she
surrendered her house to no fewer than nine
Georges at once, most of them under twelve.
Her reward for all her efforts has been to lock me
up daily, usually in solitary confinement, less
often in the company of other Assyriologists. I
would not be surprised to learn that she gained
a certain satisfaction from this duty.
Elizabeth retires this summer from her post
as the collection’s librarian. For all her patient
service and generous friendship, she deserves a
great deal more than I can offer, which is the solemn dedication to her of this book.
A.R.G.
Buckhurst Hill
16 July 2008
Abbreviations
lichungen der Deutschen OrientGesellschaft 16 and 37. 2 vols. Leipzig,
1911 and 1922
KAR
E. Ebeling, Keilschrifttexte aus Assur
religiösen Inhalts. Wissenschaftliche
Veröffentlichungen der Deutschen
Orient-Gesellschaft 28 and 34. 2 vols.
Leipzig, 1915–23
MBGT Middle Babylonian Grammatical Texts,
ed. Civil and Kennedy 1986
MS
manuscript; Manuscript Schøyen,
siglum of the Schøyen Collection
MSL
B. Landsberger, M. Civil et al., Materialien zum sumerischen Lexikon, Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon. Rome,
1937–
NBGT Neo-Babylonian Grammatical Texts,
ed. Hallock and Landsberger 1956
OB
Old Babylonian
OBGT Old Babylonian Grammatical Texts,
ed. Hallock and Landsberger 1956
PBS
Publications of the Babylonian Section,
University of Pennsylvania, The Museum. Philadelphia, 1911–26
PRAK H. de Genouillac, Premières recherches
archéologiques à Kich. 2 vols. Paris,
1924–25
R
H. C. Rawlinson et al., The Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia. 5 vols.
London, 1861–84
SAA
State Archives of Assyria. Helsinki,
1987–
SB
Standard Babylonian
STC
L. W. King, The Seven Tablets of Creation, or the Babylonian and Assyrian
Legends concerning the Creation of the
World and of Mankind. 2 vols. London, 1902. Reprinted in one volume
as Enuma Elish. The Seven Tablets of
Creation. Escondido, Calif., 1999
Altbabylonische Briefe. Leiden, 1964–
C. H. W. Johns, Assyrian Deeds and
Documents. 4 vols. Cambridge
AHw
W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. 3 vols. Wiesbaden, 1965–
81
˘ H. Kızılyay and F. R. Kraus,
ARN
M. Cıg,
Eski Babil zamanına ait Nippur hukukî
vesikaları, Altbabylonische Rechtsurkunden aus Nippur. Istanbul, 1952
BAM
F. Köcher, Die Babylonische-assyrische
Medizin in Texten und Untersuchungen.
Berlin, 1963–
BE
The Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania, Series A: Cuneiform Texts. Philadelphia, 1893–1914
BRM
Babylonian Records in the Library of J.
Pierpont Morgan. 4 vols. New Haven,
Conn., 1912–23.
CH
Codex °ammurapi
CT
Cuneiform Tablets from Babylonian
Tablets (&c.), in the British Museum.
London, 1896–
CTN
Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud. London, 1972–
EAE
En›ma Anu Ellil
ETCSL The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature. http://www-etcsl.
orient.ox.ac.uk/
GAG W. von Soden, Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik. Analecta Orientalia
33/47. Rome, 1969. GAG3 = 3rd
edn, 1995
Gilg
GilgameÍ, ed. George 2003
ITT
H. de Genouillac, Inventaire des tablettes
de Tello conservées au Musée Impérial
Ottoman. 5 vols. Paris, 1910–21
KAH
L. Messerschmidt and O. Schroeder,
Keilschrifttexte aus Assur historischen
Inhalts. Wissenschaftliche VeröffentAbB
ADD
xiii
xiv
STT
TCL
TIM
TMH
Babylonian Literary Texts
O. R. Gurney, J. J. Finkelstein and P.
Hulin, The Sultantepe Tablets. 2 vols.
1957, 1964
Textes cunéiformes du Louvre. Paris,
1910–
Texts in the Iraq Museum. Baghdad,
Leiden, 1964–
Texte und Materialien der Frau Professor
Hilprecht-Sammlung
vorderasiatischen
Altertümer (Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Aniquities) im Eigentum der
Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena. Leipzig,
Berlin, Wiesbaden, 1932–. NF =
Neue Folge
UET
Uruk
VAS
YOS
Ur Excavations, Texts. London, Philadelphia, 1928–
H. Hunger, E. von Weiher, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, U18. 5 vols.
Berlin, Mainz, 1976–98
Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der
Königlichen (Staatlichen) Museen zu Berlin. Leipzig, Berlin, Mainz, 1907–
Yale Oriental Series, Babylonian Texts.
New Haven, Conn., 1915–
Introduction
Old Babylonian literary texts are rare. In
this statement the reference is not to literary
texts on tablets of the Old Babylonian period;
these are comparatively common, by virtue of
the masses of eighteenth-century copies of
Sumerian literary compositions discovered in
large quantities at Nippur and Ur and in smaller
quantities elsewhere. The reference is to literary
compositions in the Old Babylonian dialect of
the Akkadian language. In his book on Style and
Form in Old-Babylonian Literary Texts (Groningen, 2003), Nathan Wasserman catalogued 275
such texts. But this figure includes as Old Babylonian literary texts many compositions in
genres that, though literary in the widest sense,
are conventionally given separate generic labels
in Assyriology: incantations, laments, divination prayers, letter prayers, some royal inscriptions, funerary inscriptions, proverbs, and
translations of Sumerian texts in bilingual format. When these are excluded, the figure drops
to about fifty. The present collection of twenty
Babylonian literary texts from the first half of
the second millennium BC contains a much
smaller proportion of compositions in other
genres, and thus adds substantially to the known
corpus of Old Babylonian literature. And, as
usual with Old Babylonian literature, the new
pieces spring some big surprises, the most unexpected being texts Nos. 1 and 14. The four texts
that are not compositions in literary genres nevertheless have, between them, much to tell us
about literary creativity in Akkadian.
The twenty tablets are organized formally
into four sub-divisions: narrative poetry (Nos.
1–6), praise poetry (No. 7), love poetry (Nos.
8–12), and prose (Nos. 13–19). This is a pragmatic typology created to meet the needs of this
particular book. It does not make any statement
on any literary system, ancient or modern, but it
does highlight the distinction between poetry
and prose, which is perhaps not given enough
consideration in the study of ancient Mesopotamian literature.
The six tablets published as narrative poetry
represent three different literary compositions.
Text No. 1 is a wholly new composition that
introduces surprising new mythology relating
to a ram-god called Bazi; its subscript refers to
the composition’s being sung on a particular
occasion, which offers a rare insight into the
performance of Old Babylonian narrative poetry. Texts Nos. 2–3 are new pieces of the wellknown poem of Atram-Óas‹s, the Old Babylonian narrative of creation and the flood. Texts
Nos. 4–6 are from the equally well-known Epic
of GilgameÍ; Nos. 4 and 5 have been published
before, but the new edition of No. 5 takes
advantage of subsequent conservation and adds
materially to our knowledge of its text.
Text No. 7 is a sole example of praise poetry: a new song in praise of the god Ninzida
(NingiÍzida). Love poetry is a genre populated
by a tiny number of Old Babylonian examples;
Texts Nos. 8 and 9 are significant additions to
the genre. Related compositions are No. 10,
which is the opposite of a love poem but recycles two stanzas of an already known love dialogue; No. 11, a spell to induce amatory desire
in the beloved; and No. 12, which seems to collect incipits of love poems and other literature.
The prose compositions are six in number.
Text No. 13 is a short prayer to the goddess IÍtar
as the evening star. No. 14 is a unique example
of Old Babylonian Edubba-literature, in which
a father chastises his son in a long Akkadian
monologue that is the source text for an
extremely abstruse translation into academic
Sumerian. No. 15 is a diplomatic letter set
against the waning of the power of Larsa in the
xv
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Babylonian Literary Texts
eighteenth century BC; its highly literary language sets it apart from most letters. Text No. 16
is a very short composition that probably served
as a model letter in pedagogy. More surely a
model is a court document surviving in three
different copies (No. 17); it is uncertain whether
we are to understand the extraordinary tale it
contains as a piece of fiction or as a true story.
Text No. 18 is another example of a pedagogical
text in Akkadian, this time containing legal prescriptions. Instruction in school is also the context of Text No. 19, which adds to our slender
knowledge of riddles in Akkadian.
In archaeological terms all the pieces published here are unprovenanced. On internal evidence it is clear that all twenty tablets derive
ultimately from Babylonia. Most of them bear
texts written according to spelling conventions
that have been identified as largely southern.
Many Old Babylonian letters and administrative
documents now in the Schøyen Collection are
clearly from Larsa in the period before its conquest by °ammurapi of Babylon, and this
southern city is probably the source of the
majority of the collection’s other Old Babylo-
nian tablets. One text published here bears a
well-known Larsa date (No. 18). However,
Text No. 7 employs spelling conventions that in
an archival document would suggest a northern
provenance; and there are good grounds for
associating Texts Nos. 16 and 17 with archives
from D›r-AbieÍuÓ in eastern Babylonia.
The study of the late Old Babylonian archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ, much of them now
in North America, has already begun to open up
new vistas in Old Babylonian history, intellectual and cultural, as well as political and military.
The undeniable importance of primary sources
for the reconstruction of man’s past makes it
imperative that all cuneiform texts be published
without prejudice, no matter what their origin,
history, and present location, and whether or
not their owner makes public what he knows of
their recent history, as Mr. Schøyen has done in
his statement of provenance (pp. vii–viii). Certainly our knowledge of Babylonian culture
would be considerably poorer if we chose to
ignore the compositions published in this volume.
Catalogue
Text
Measurements
MS
in mm
Number
Description
1 Song about the god Bazi
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column,
40+21 ll. + subscript of 2 ll.
158™70™28
2758
2 Excerpt from the poem of Atram-Óas‹s
Tablet, lower part missing, portrait format, two columns,
20+19+25+19 ll.
125™115™40
5108
3 Excerpt from the poem of Atram-Óas‹s
Fragment, upper part, portrait format, single column, 11+1 ll.
62™52™25
2950
4 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ
Fragment, middle part, portrait format, single column, 8+5 ll.
70™34™25
2652/5
5 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 45+3+36 ll.
203™75™32
3025
6 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ
Twenty small-to-minute fragments, among which:
1. Flake, from near the right edge, cut to size, 11 ll.
2. Flake, from the left edge, 8 ll.
3. Flake, from the left edge, 7 ll.
4. Chip, left-hand corner, 2+3+3 ll.
5. Flake, from top or bottom edge, 3+1 ll.
6. Flake, from the right edge, 1 l.
7. Flake, from the middle, cut to size, 4 ll.
11. Flake, from left edge, 2 ll.
3263
38™18™7
27™16™5
28™8™7
13™13™12
13™14™9
14™12™11
16™8™3
5™9™2
3263/1
3263/2
3263/3
3263/4
3263/5
3263/6
3263/7
3263/11
7 Song in praise of the god NingiÍzida
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 16+8 ll.
110™63™22
2000
8 Love poem, a man wants a woman
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 21+2 ll.
115™58™27
2866
9 Love poem, a woman wants a man
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 18+17+1 ll.
95™55™25
5111
130™65™25
3285
10 Love poem, a man spurns a woman
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 31+19 ll.
xvii
xviii
Text
Babylonian Literary Texts
Description
Measurements
in mm
MS
Number
11 Love charm, a man wants a woman
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 16 ll.,
rev. blank
95™54™25
2920
12 Collection of incipits of love poems and other songs
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 22+15 ll.
105™62™22
3391
13 Prose prayer to the goddess IÍtar
Tablet, bottom missing, landscape or square format,
single column, 9+2 ll.
50™70™22
2698/3
14 Bilingual composition in which a scribe harangues his son
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column,
68+58 ll. + subscript of 1 l.
198™64™20
2624
15 Literary letter of Sîn-muballiˇ, viceroy of Yamutbal
Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 31+30 ll.
123™49™28
3302
16 A model(?) message home, a son to his father
Tablet, complete, square, single column, 8+7 ll.
43™45™16
3208
17A Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5
Tablet, nearly complete, portrait format, two columns,
21+2+30+5+18+14 ll. + subscript of 4 ll.
142™110™37
3209/1
17B Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5
Tablet, complete, portrait format, two columns,
26+1+19+2+29+3+17+4 ll.
143™119™33
3209/2
17C Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5
Tablet, complete, portrait format, two columns,
30+4+29+4+26+16+4 ll.
152™124™33
3209/3
18 Practice tablet of legal content
Tablet, nearly complete, portrait format, single column,
20+2 ll. + subscript of 2 ll.
118™56™26
4507
19 School tablet, riddles
Tablet, complete, landscape format, single column,
4+1+3 ll.
36™53™21
3949
Concordances
1. Concordance of tablet numbers in the Schøyen Collection (MS) and text numbers in this volume.
MS Number
2000
2624
2652/5
2698/3
2758
2866
2920
2950
3025
3208
3209/1
Text Number
MS Number
7
14
4
13
1
8
11
3
5
16
17 MS A
3209/2
3209/3
3263
3285
3302
3391
3949
4507
5108
5111
Text Number
17 MS B
17 MS C
6
10
15
12
19
18
2
9
2. Concordance of text numbers in this volume with entry numbers in the database of the Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative, http://cdli.ucla.edu, which offers color images of all the tablets
published in this book, sometimes in a fuller photographic record.
Text Number
CDLI Number
Text Number
1
P251785
2
P254176
3
P252009
4
P251680
5
P252031
6 Fragment 1
P387696
6 Fragments 2–21 P388113–32
7
P250735
8
P251898
9
P254179
10
P252226
11
12
13
14
15
16
17 MS A
17 MS B
17 MS C
18
19
xix
CDLI Number
P252006
P252332
P251711
P251668
P252243
P252199
P252200
P252201
P252202
P253613
P253038
The Song of Bazi
No. 1
2758
Pls. 1–4
in four-line stanzas or quatrains, as in other Old
Babylonian poetry. As always, correct interpretation of the text depends on careful observation of the pauses that coincide with the
couplet boundaries. The following synopsis
will attempt to demarcate those boundaries.
This single-column tablet contains in its sixtythree lines of text an Old Babylonian literary
composition that elaborates previously unknown mythology. According to the tablet’s
subscript, the poem was sung on a particular
day during the year; its performance seems
therefore to have been an annual event. The
occasion of the performance will be discussed
in the commentary, alongside other matters
arising. It is necessary first to deal with the contents of the song itself.
The protagonist of the song is identified as
an omniscient son of Enki destined by his father
to be king of the gods. However, the god in
question is not Marduk of Babylon, nor any
previously known son of Enki, but a deity
called Bazi. Bazi is both a herding god (l. 11a)
and himself a ram, kazzum (2, 35). The myth
told by the poem concerns his growth to adulthood and consequent desire for a home of his
own, where he can raise his flocks. The problem is resolved by his occupation of the house
his father designates for him and his installation
there as king. In this respect, the poem prefigures En›ma eliÍ, the great Babylonian narrative
poem that tells how Marduk grew up as the son
of Ea-Enki and, among other things, took up
residence in Babylon as king of the gods. But
there the similarities end. The identity of Bazi
and his home on a Syrian mountain will be
considered after a synopsis of the composition
and the presentation of the text itself, as will the
myth’s wider significance.
The poem inscribed on MS 2758 is organized rigorously into verses (poetic lines) that
usually combine in couplets; most lines of tablet coincide with single verses but there are two
identifiable cases of long lines that are divisible
into two verses (ll. 18, 29a). In addition, couplets are often (but not always) paired by sense
Content
The composition begins with a quatrain in
which the protagonist is identified by his attributes but, unless at the end of ll. 1 or 2, not
actually named (1–4). The first couplet states
first his dwelling-place (unfortunately broken),
then his physical incarnation (a ram), and parentage (Enki). The second couplet reports one
consequence of his fathering by Enki: a transcendent ability to read the minds of men (3–4).
The phrasing of this passage prefigures the use
of very similar language about the omniscience
of Marduk (and other deities).
The second quatrain moves from circumstance to action (5–8). The protagonist is born
in the Apsû, Enki’s watery cosmic domain,
whereupon his father pronounces his destiny as
a future king of the gods. The second couplet
of this stanza reports Enki’s very words, not
only promising his son kingship in heaven but
also the task of arbitrating justice on earth. Neither topic recurs in the extant remainder of the
composition, as these themes give way to other
concerns.
Next comes a sequence of six lines that for
the first time describe the protagonist in action
(9–12a). Two of these lines have been squeezed
onto the tablet between lines that were already
inscribed, as if interpolated as afterthoughts
(11a and 12a); while they thus turn four lines
into six, they do not jar and appear to be original to the text. Lines 9–11a are a quatrain; its
burden is to present a problem that must be
1
2
Babylonian Literary Texts
resolved later in the narrative: having grown
up, the protagonist addresses his father about
the issue of his place of residence. It is significant that he wishes to raise flocks of sheep and
goats. This is not just because he is himself one
of their number. As a god who is predestined to
live in the Syrian uplands, pastoralism will be
what supports his household and maintains his
wealth.
The protagonist’s speech continues with
the couplet ll. 12–12a, in which he observes that
all the cult-centers are already occupied by other gods. There follows a couplet of narrative in
which Enki makes ready his reply (13–14); it
focuses on the father, his qualities of considered
wisdom (m⁄lik il‹) and organizational expertise
(b¤l Í‹m⁄tim), and the place where he dwells
(Apsû). This stanza, the fourth quatrain, acts as a
bridge between the protagonist’s question in
the third quatrain (9–11a) and his father’s
answer in the stanza that follows (15–19).
The fifth stanza begins by at last naming the
protagonist. The first line of the tablet is long
but probably not a whole couplet (15): it can be
analyzed as a verse of four poetic units (or feet,
in the terminology of Buccellati 1990) punctuated by a caesura: ana Bázi | Enki ab›Íu || ͤr‹
takl‹m⁄tim | ‹taww›Íum. After introducing Bazi
by name, the line returns the focus briefly to
Enki and then reveals what his coming speech
will be: “songs of revelation.” The revelation
itself is the passage of direct speech that follows.
Considerable difficulties attend the interpretation of Enki’s song and its division into poetic
units. Two points are clear: Enki allocates to his
son Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r (16), where, on the
former, a throne-dais has apparently appeared
for him (18). If ll. 15–16 are a couplet, l. 17 will
start another. The identity of the masculine
third-person subject of this line’s main verb is
not made explicit, and its exact purport and elucidation elude me. Perhaps Enki refers to himself in this line, for who else dear to Bazi knows
where he will reside?
Line 18 runs over onto an indented line and
is too long to be scanned as a single verse. It
consists of two separate topics: the appearance
of the cult-center and the sending of news to
the king. The correct division into verses is a
matter of observing structure and meaning.
Reading forward from the line’s beginning, a
verse can be made of aÍ-fiaÍÍ⁄r ›‰i parakku ana
rakbî “a throne-dais rose forth for the messengers,” but, while the structure is acceptable, the
sense of it does not convince. Reading back
from the end of l. 18, a verse rakbî | Í›l‹ma ||
wudd‹ma | an Íárrim “send messengers up to
make it known to the king!” makes a more
meaningful poetic line, and one with a delicate
balance, containing as it does four feet punctuated by a caesura and bound by a chiasmus. The
division into verses thus occurs after the preposition ana, and we must assume that something
has mistakenly been omitted after that preposition. Probably this was a noun like Íubt‹ka “for
your abode,” a word later used of Bazi’s residence (39 Íupassu). The two verses of l. 18 do
not form a couplet, for that would leave the
enigmatic l. 17 marooned; the verse 18a (aÍfiaÍÍ⁄r ›‰i parakku ana <. . .>) concludes the
business begun in l. 17; verse 18b (rakbî Í›l‹ma
wudd‹ma an Íarrim) thus should be expected to
form a couplet with l. 19. Line 19 is a verbless
nominal phrase, consisting of a noun and its
attributes (el-le-tim Íar-ra-tim m⁄rti Anim), and so
must be attached syntactically either to l. 18 or
to l. 20. Parsing the noun as genitive singular
governed by the preposition an(a) in l. 18 yields
better sense than parsing it as accusative plural in
some adverbial relation to ittasÓar in l. 20. In
addition, reading on will determine that ll. 20–
21, 22–23 and 24–25 make acceptable couplets.
All this confirms from meaning and structure
what has already been suggested, that l. 19 is
better paired with l. 18b rather than l. 20. If
Enki’s song is to be a succession of couplets, as
one expects, then it can be set out as the latter
five lines of a six-line stanza, as follows:
15
ana Bázi | Enki ab›Íu || ͤr‹ takl‹m⁄tim |
‹taww›Íum
16
addíkkum | fiaÍÍ⁄r u BaÍ⁄r | Íadi’ámma
17
ayyumm⁄n | Ía tara’’am›ma || Í›ma | ‹de
18a
aÍ-fiaÍÍ⁄r | ›‰i || parákku | ana
<Íubt‹ka?>
18b
rakbî | Í›l‹ma || wudd‹ma | an Íárrim
19
élletim | Íárratim || m⁄rti | Ánim
The Song of Bazi
The most important line of Enki’s song is
the first, in which he answers Bazi’s question
(16). It is the only line of the song structured in
three units (in Buccellati’s terminology a verse
of two simple feet, or odd cola, straddling a
complex foot, or even cola). The effect is to
start the song slowly, which can be imagined to
add solemnity to the message conveyed in the
line.
With the verse structure of Enki’s song so
organized, further attention can be given to its
meaning as a whole. Enki starts by allocating
Bazi his cult-center (15–16), continues after an
enigmatic comment by describing how the
cult-center came to be (17–18a), and ends by
giving Bazi instructions (18b–19). The point of
l. 17 is perhaps that Enki knows a further detail
and will now impart it: a throne-dais has
appeared (›‰i) on Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r. Note that the
throne-dais was not built but came into being
spontaneously, a notion that fits with the
description of Bazi’s abode, later in the poem, as
a place of natural rather than artificial topography. Bazi must send a message by courier to the
“king” and the “pure queen, daughter of
Anum.” When singular, the daughter of Anum
is most commonly the goddess IÍtar. The theology of the queenly IÍtar that informs this passage
is best expressed in the famous Old Babylonian
hymn for Ammiditana in praise of IÍtar, in
which she sits enthroned in Uruk alongside
“king” Anum, who is further identified as ÓammuÍ “the head of her family” (Thureau-Dangin
1925). The “king” of the present passage is thus
also Anum. Enki’s instruction to Bazi is therefore to inform the rulers of the universe of his
occupation of Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r. The use of
rakbûm “messenger” is a detail from human
communication; just as generals sent their lords
news of conquest by courier, so Bazi will do the
same.
The next stanza is far less problematic; it
consists of two couplets in which the topics are
arranged chiastically, Íadûm-⁄lum, ⁄lum-Íadûm
(20–23). In the first couplet Bazi arrives at the
mountain and inspects the settlement, called
⁄lum l⁄ kiÍuppûm, i.e. an inhabited, built-up area
(20–21). Evidently there was a town, something
that to the Babylonian way of thinking was
3
required in a cult-center, in order to house the
people who serviced a god’s cult. More difficult
is the simile of l. 20, whichever of the two possible readings is chosen: how is circling a mountain akin to visiting queens (k‹ Íarr⁄tim)?
Alternatively, how could Bazi’s reconnaissance,
ordained by Enki, be described as criminal (k‹
sarr⁄tim)? Perhaps the text is corrupt and once
read k‹ Íarr⁄qim “like a thief,” i.e. stealthily. The
second couplet at first continues to focus on the
town, which is found to be not too far away
(from the mountain?), evidently a favorable
location, and then concludes with Bazi’s assault
on the mountain (22–23). The sundering of
mountains by heroes is a well-known mytheme
in ancient Mesopotamian folklore, where it
attaches to GilgameÍ and Sargon of Akkade
(George 2003: 467–68); the god Ninurta also
smashed mountains and restructured them to
provide water for the Tigris, as told in the Sumerian poem Lugale. In this instance, Bazi breaks
a mountain in order to provide a home. The
couplet ends with a phrase that makes a first
allusion to the strange nature of this abode:
er‰etam uÍpelki “he made the earth gape open.”
Bazi’s cult-center is in a hole in a mountain.
The poem continues with the further
description of Bazi’s extraordinary abode; this
occupies two quatrains (24–29a). His house
“was created,” i.e. appeared spontaneously as a
result of his assault on the mountain, amid a surrounding flood of water (24–25). It was not
made of brick and plaster, but of lapis lazuli and
silver; the entry was paved with slabs of gold
and its door-leaves held in place by monstrous
snakes (26–27). The next couplet continues the
description of the gateway. Not all details are
intelligible, but the guardianship of death
enhanced the dread terror of the place (28–29).
The following line is another example of two
verses written on one line of clay. They have
been squeezed between ll. 29 and 30 in tiny
script, evidently because they were omitted in
error and had to be inserted later. These verses
make a couplet reporting that Bazi’s house was
traversed by the waters of life and death (29a).
The image of water flowing in the god’s house
calls to mind the four rivers flowing from God’s
garden in Eden and, more exactly, the passage
4
Babylonian Literary Texts
of Revelations that describes a “river of the
waters of life” issuing from God’s throne (Rev.
xxii 1). Something similar was part of Babylonian religious thought, for Marduk’s temple in
Babylon held a sacred well, é.idim.sag.gá
“House, Primordial Wellspring,” that represented the life-giving waters of the rivers Tigris
and Euphrates (Tintir II 33, ed. George 1992:
46–47 // CTN IV 237 obv. 8', ed. George 1999:
72 n. 16). Other temples were similarly equipped. The motif was evidently widespread in
time and space.
Attention is then turned from the cult-center’s physical description to the activities that
occurred there. A conventional Babylonian
image introduces the first couplet: the house is
full of joy (30). This attribute of Babylonian
temples arises from their role in the celebration
of festivals (see George 1992: 246–47, 317–18).
Bazi shares the inmost sanctuary (pap⁄Óum) with
the sun-god fiamaÍ, and the temple as a whole
with fiakkan, the lord of the herds (31). Perhaps
this signifies that the sanctuary is adorned with a
solar disk, and that the god’s flocks throng its
courtyards. As father and son fiamaÍ and fiakkan
are a pair. They feature in the next couplet also,
where the latter is “slain” and the fact
announced, as we see it, to fiamaÍ “of blood”
and the great Divine River “of sorcery” (32–
33). fiakkan’s death in mythology is reported in
the Theogony of Dunnu and he numbers
among the residents of the netherworld in the
GilgameÍ traditions (George 2003: 850–51). In
the context of a festival the mythical death of
fiakkan was presumably symbolized by the ritual
sacrifice of livestock. The significance of fiamaÍ
“of blood” and the Divine River “of sorcery” is
perhaps that, as divine supreme judge, fiamaÍ
brings retribution to those who shed blood,
while the river ordeal is the particular arbiter of
justice in the case of allegations of sorcery (CH
§2). To sum up, ll. 30–33 form a four-line stanza
that seems to describe cultic celebration and animal sacrifice. It thus sets a ritual scene for the
next passage, which describes Bazi’s enthronement.
The poem’s focus returns to Bazi: he rules
his people and city in his dual aspects as prince
and ram (34–35). The next couplet announces
his dominion in words that might attend the
coronation of a human king (amma Íarrum b¤l
parakki) but then again celebrates his ovine
attributes (36–37). The metaphor of gods and
kings butting enemies like an ox, ram, or goat
was much used by Babylonian poets. The conventional language is never used more appropriately than here and in the next couplet, where
the god is himself a ram (38). However, the
tense of the first verb of this couplet is past
(unakkip), so the word refers not to a general
quality, as in l. 37, but to a specific event. Presumably Bazi waged war on local potentates to
secure his dominion. Another interpolated line
evokes the defeated enemy, trodden under the
victor’s two feet (38a). It is a detail that perhaps
alludes to the decoration of Bazi’s throne-dais
with vanquished enemies left and right. Lines
34–38a emerge as a six-line stanza hymning
Bazi’s dominion and the military success that
underpinned it.
The poem now returns to the description of
Bazi’s place of residence (39ff.). The passage
grows more and more fragmentary as decipherment of the damaged surface of the reverse
becomes difficult. The lines that deal with Bazi’s
household continue at least to l. 48, and thus
consist of a minimum of five couplets. The passage attributes to the place conventional imagery: it is said to nudge the extremities of the
cosmos (42), like many a regular Babylonian
temple (Edzard 1987). But there are two striking
details. First, the household is populated by t‹r›
ti’⁄m¤tim “eunuchs of the seas” (40). These are
presumably some kind of water-dwelling creature; at any rate, the connection with water is
further established. The watery nature of Bazi’s
abode is again reinforced by the next line, which
speaks of his kibrum “brink” (41), a word that is
only rarely used for edges of anything other than
bodies of water. Bazi’s “brink” is as high as a
mountain. It is clearly an important feature of
his cult-center, for the word occurs again in ll.
45 and 48, on the last occasion in explicit connection with water. The poem engages the
audience, first by asking a question, l⁄ eli (41),
and then by an invitation to imagine the place in
their minds. The singular imperative is used,
amur (43), as in the address prefaced to the Stan-
The Song of Bazi
dard Babylonian GilgameÍ. The object of this
imperative is ambiguous, for dunnum can mean
“power” as well as “stronghold,” but since Mt.
BaÍ⁄r was a strategic location of military importance, fortified by at least one Babylonian king
(see the commentary), probably the heights
upon which the listener is asked to gaze were
Bazi’s defensive works.
The passage beginning in l. 49 probably
returns us to narrative. By ilum “god” in that line
is surely meant Bazi, as before in l. 3; the singular
laÓmum in l. 50 perhaps indicates the arrival of a
messenger from Enki’s Apsû, for such is the laÓmum’s role in the poem of Atram-Óas‹s. The
words b›rum “wellspring” and k⁄rum “quayside”
in this passage again evoke a watery landscape.
Little more can be said of the poem’s conclusion, except that Bazi’s destiny is determined
(55). The decreeing of destiny for a god, newly
ensconced in his cult-center and sitting on his
royal throne, is a theme encountered also in
En›ma eliÍ, where it takes the form of the pronunciation of Marduk’s fifty names by the
assembled gods. In the present text something is
done ninefold (54), but damage prevents us
knowing more.
Aspects of Language and Writing
The poetry of this composition is the plain,
unadorned literary style found in GilgameÍ and
other narratives, which may speak for a popular,
oral origin rather than a scholarly one. Forms
that might be identified as “hymno-epic” style
are terminative Íarr›tiÍ (l. 6) and ͤpiÍÍu (38a),
5
uÍrabba (11a) instead of uÍarba, the apocopated
preposition an (18), and the transitive “stative”
Íanin (41).
The scribe who wrote this tablet was blessed
with a very fine hand, one of great beauty and
clarity. He could not match manual dexterity
with mental attention, however, for he was
forced to interpolate lines omitted in error on
no fewer than four separate occasions (11a, 12a,
29a, 38a). Erasures are also common, and a further sign of carelessness.
The most distinctive feature of the orthography is that long internal vowels are usually
written plene; no short vowels are so written.
Also notable is the unusual full glossing of the
logogram for “god”: dingiri-lum (3, 49, 54), dingir
i-li
(6); only once is the word written conventionally, ì-lí (13). Mimation is very rarely omitted: pa-ra-ak-ku (18), ba-la-ˇù (29a), sà-da-ru (33),
pa-ra-ak-ki (36), qé-er-bu (45), i-re-e-eq-qá (48) are
evident examples, but there may be others in the
broken passage ll. 49–57. Geminated consonants
are not always written plene: defective are: is-sàqar (10, 13), i-ta-wu-ú-Íum (15) by default, a-ama-an (17) if for ayyumm⁄n, wu-di-ma (18), as-kupa-a-tum (27), di-ba-a-Íu (28), ib-ba-la-ka-tu
(29a), a-ma (36), Íe-e-pi-Íu (38a), [ú]-wa-‰a-ar-ma
(44), ú-ba-al (52). Sibilants are written according
to conventions that in archival documents are
identified as south Babylonian: is-sà-qar (10, 13),
bi-i-is-sú (25), sà-da-ru (33), Íu-pa-as-sú (39). The
syllables /pi/ and /pe/ are also written in southern style, not BI but PI: uÍ-pe-el-ki (23), Íe-e-pi-Íu
(38a).
6
Babylonian Literary Texts
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
11a
12
12a
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
29a
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
rev.
38
38a
39
40
wa-a-Íi-ib ‚am-x xŸ ni[m . . . . . . . ]
[k]a-az-zum bu-ku-ur ‚den-kiŸ x[ . . . ]
ilum(dingir)i-lum ba-a-ri te-né-Íi-e-‚timŸ
mu-‚úŸ-de li-ib-bi-im za-wa-nim ù i-Ía-ri-im
‚i-na qé-reŸ-eb apsîm(zu.ab) na-bi Íum-Íu
Íar-ru-ti-iÍ il‹(dingir)i-li den-ki iÍ-Íi-i-Íu
Íi-i-ib lu-ú Íar-ra-a-ti i-na i-li-i-ma
be-el di-i-in ma-a-tim e-li-iÍ ù Ía-ap-li-iÍ
iÍ-tu eˇ-lu-ú-ta-am im-la-a i-da-a-Íu
is-sà-qar a-na a-bi-i-Íu den-ki
a-bi ma-a-Óa-a-za-am a-li a-Ía-ak-ka-an
ka-az-za-‚am im-meŸ-[er]-‚tamŸ a-li uÍ-ra-ab-ba
‰a-ab-[tu-(ma)] úÓ-‚ÓuŸ-zu pa-ra-ak-ku
Í[a wa-aÍ-b]u ‚denukk›(a!.nun.na)Ÿ i-lu ra-bu-ú-tum
[i]s-sà-q[ar-Íu]m ma-a-‚liŸ-ik ì-lí a-bu-ú-‚ÍuŸ
wa-a-Íi-‚ibŸ apsîm(zu.ab) be-el Íi-i-ma-a-tim
a-na dba-zi den-ki a-bu-Íu Íe-e-ri ta-ak-li-ma-a-tim i-ta-wu-ú-Íum
ad-‚diŸ-ik-kum Ía-aÍ-Ía-a-ar ù ba-Ía-a-ar Ía-di-a-am-ma
a-a-ma-a-an Ía ta-ra-a-a-mu-ú-ma Íu-ú-ma i-de-e
aÍ-[Í]a-aÍ-Ía-a-ar ú-‰i pa-ra-ak-ku a-na <Íubt‹ka?> rakbî(rá.gaba)meÍ
Íu-ú-li-i-ma wu-di-ma an Íar-ri-im
el-le-tim Íar-ra-tim ma-a-ar-ti a-nim
it-ta-as-Óa-ar Ía-di-a-am ki-i Íar-ra-a-tim
iˇ-ˇù-ul a-lam la ki-Íup-pa-Íu
a-lum-ma la ru-ú-uq-Íum da-an-ni-iÍ
im-Óa-a‰ Ía-di-a-am er-‰e-ta-am uÍ-pe-el-ki
bi-i-tum [b]a-ni mu-ú ú-ba-ú-nim
i-na qé-re-eb me-e-Íu ba-ni bi-i-is-sú
li-ib-na-a-tum na4uqnûm(za.gìn) da-la-a-tum eb-bu-um
as-ku-pa!-a-tum Ía Óur⁄‰im(kù.sig17!) ba-aÍ-mumuÍ.meÍ Íu-ku-ú Ía giÍdaltim(ig)
Óa-ar ‰i-pa-sú qé-e di-ba-a-‚ÍuŸ
ilum(dingir) m‹tum(ba!.ug7) ú-ka-al giÍsikk›ram(sag.kul) atû(ì.duÓ)meÍ mu-ú-tum
i-na qé-re-eb bi-ti-i-Íu ib-ba-la-ka-tu mu-ú mi-iÍ-lum ba-la-ˇù mi-iÍ-lum mu-ú-t<um>
bi-i-tum ma-li ta-Íe-la-a-tim
i-na épap⁄Óim(pa4.paÓ) dÍamaÍ(utu) i-na b‹tim(é) dÍákkan
né-e-er-ma dÍákkan Ía ru-Íe-e
d
ÍamaÍ(utu) Ía da-mi dn⁄ru(íd) rab‹tu(gal) Ía ki-iÍ-pi {ras.} sà-da-ru
el-le-e-tim ni-Íi i-bé-e-el
ka-az-zum e-te-el-lum Ía a-li-i-Íu
a-ma Íar-rum be-el pa-ra-ak-ki
e-ed-dam qá-ar-ni-i-in mu-na-ak-ki-ip na-ak-ru-ti-i-Íu
i-na qar-ni-‚iŸ-Íu ma-al-ki na-a-ki-ri ú-na-‚akŸ-ki-ip {ras.}
Íi-na-ma i-ka-an-nu-Ía Íe-e-pi-Íu
la ra-bi-a-at ki-it-mu-ra-‚at ÍuŸ-pa-as-sú
ti-i-ru ti-a-me-tim ti-i-ru-ú-Íu
The Song of Bazi
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
11a
12
12a
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
29a
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
38a
39
40
TRANSLATION
He who dwells in . . . [ . . . . . . ,]
ram, son of Enki [ . . . ;]
the god who surveys the human race,
who knows the minds of the wicked and the just!
In the midst of the Apsû his name was chosen,
Enki elevated him to be a king of the gods:
“Grow old, so that you may be a king among the very gods,
prosecutor of the land, both above and below!”
After his arms had filled out into manly stature,
he spoke to his father, Enki:
“Father, where shall I set up my cult-center?
Where shall I rear ram (and) ewe?
The cult-daises are occupied and taken,
where [reside] the Anunnaki, the great gods.”
He spoke to him, the sage of the gods, his father,
who dwells in the Apsû, the lord of destinies.
To Bazi his father Enki talked in songs of revelation:
“I hereby give you the mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r.
Someone(?) whom you love, only he knew,
at fiaÍÍ⁄r a cult-dais rose forth for <your abode(?)>.
Send messengers up to make it known to the king,
(and) the pure queen, the daughter of Anum.”
He kept circling the mountain as (if around) queens,
he viewed the city, the parts that were not fallow.
The city itself, it was not too distant for him,
he smote the mountain, opened wide the terrain.
A house was created, waters flowed forth,
in the midst of its waters was created his house.
The bricks were lapis lazuli, the doorleaves golden,
the thresholds were of gold, pythons were the door poles.
Its cone(?) was . . . , copper its twin panels,
a dead god was retaining the bolt, the door-keepers were death.
In the midst of his house waters were crossing,
half were life, half were death.
The house was full of joy,
the sun was in the cella, fiakkan in the house.
Slain is fiakkan of witchcraft,
O fiamaÍ of blood, O great Divine River of sorcery!
He rules the sacred people,
the ram, monarch of his city.
Behold the king, lord of the throne-dais,
sharp of horn, gorer of his enemies!
With his horns he gored the enemy princes,
two (of them) bow down at his feet.
Is his dwelling not large (and) well stocked,
are (not) the eunuchs of the sea his eunuchs?
7
8
Babylonian Literary Texts
41 ki-bi-ir-Íu la ‚eŸ-li Ía-ni-in Ía-di-a-am
42 ú-Ía-ap-li-iÍ er-‰e-tam ù Ía-me-e i-mi-id
43 a-mu-ur du-un-[ni]-i-Íu e-‚liŸ-iÍ <iÍ>-Ía-qí-a-‚amŸ-ma
44 Ía la i-du-ú [ú?]-wa-‰a-ar-ma ur-ra-[a]d
45 ú-ul Ía-[p]e-e[l] qé-er-bu ‚e-miŸ-id ‚ki-ibŸ-rum
46 Ía li-i-Íi-im [i]b-ta-ni x ba ra x-a-Íu
47 wa-ar-ka-ta-a-nu x x x Ía x x-ad-na?-am-ma
48 i-na me-e x-re-e x ab x e ri i-[r]e-e-eq-qá ki-ib-rum
49 ilum(dingir)i-lum zu-x x x x x x-Íum
50 la-aÓ-mu-um x x uÍ [x (x)]-tab-ba-la-a-Íu
51 ka-ta-x x x x x x [x]-tim
52 a-na ‚bu-ur?Ÿ x x x x [x x-t]am? ú-ba-al
53 ka-rum x x id [x x x x ]x-az-za-az
54 ilum(dingir)i-lum Ía x[ x x x] a-na tu-ú-Íu
55 a-na be-el x x x[ x i-Íi-i]m Íi-i-im-ta-am
56 ù Íi-‚i-im-ta-amŸ [x x x ]x-Íu
57 li?-x x [x] x x [x x x x ]x-i-Íu
subscript
58 ‚Íi?Ÿ-[i?]-‚ir?Ÿ [db]a-‚ziŸ Ía i-nu-ú-ma ‰⁄b›(érin)Óá
59 [i-na] ›m(ud) [x (x) x] i-il-lu-<ú> iz-za-am-ma-ru
NOTES
4. This line contains what seems to be the first
attestation of zawânum used attributively.
7. The form Íarr⁄ti is an old-fashioned 2nd-m.
sg. stative, predicating Íarrum “king.”
16. The preterite addikkum refers to the hereand-now, an example of the tense’s “performative” function (GAG3 §79b*). Here
and in l. 41 the poet uses a hypercorrect
form Íadi’amma instead of the historically
correct uncontracted form Íadu’amma. The
former is not unusual in Old Babylonian
poetry, being found also in OB GilgameÍ
III 261 and OB Schøyen2 5 (George 2003:
215).
17. The word or phrase a-a-ma-a-an might be
analyzed as the old interrogative ay
“where” + enclitic man, introducing a rhetorical question on the topic of Bazi’s place
of residence. But there are two objections:
(a) elsewhere the text uses the usual interrogative of location, ali (ll. 11, 11a), and (b)
the plene spelling of the verb seems, in a
tablet that is careful of such matters, to rep-
resent tara”amu from râmum “to love” rather than tarammû from ramûm “to reside”;
râmum is a poor fit with interrogative
“where.” In any case, a question such as
“where is it that will you reside?” would
leave no obvious antecedent for the pronoun of Í›ma ‹de “it is he that knows.”
Accordingly, I presume that this is the
indefinite ayyumma “someone,” but compounded with enclitic -man instead of usual
-ma. The suffix -man is supposedly a particle of “irrealis” (GAG §§123e, 152d),
which does not seem appropriate here.
The present spelling joins two others that
write the vowel plene (Krebernik and
Streck 2001: 64). Krebernik and Streck
commented that the plene spelling ma-a-an
might signify the placing of stress rather
than structural length. If von Soden was
right in deriving this suffix from the interrogative mannum “who?,” one may argue
for structural length by invoking the phonological principle that a long vowel in a
final closed syllable compensates for a loss
The Song of Bazi
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
subscript
58
9
Is his brink not high, a rival to the mountain?
It pierced the netherworld and abutted the heavens.
Observe its fortifications, on high it is exalted(?),
the one that knows not will . . . and go down.
Is the interior not deep, the brink abutted?
. . . he has built his . . .
To the rear . . . . . . ,
from the water . . . . . . the brink recedes.
The god . . . . . . . . to him,
a sea-monster . . . . . .
..........,
to the well-spring of . . . . . . he brings.
The quayside . . . . . . . . . ,
the god . . . . . ninefold(?).
For the lord of . . . [he determined] a destiny,
and a destiny . . . . . . . him.
Let(?) . . . . . . . . . . . .
The [song(?) of] Bazi, which is sung when the people 59 go up [on] the day of [ . . . ]
of gemination, so that mannum, when
shorn of its case ending, should produce
m⁄n, analogous with mukinnum : muk‹n,
dannum : d⁄n etc. Thus ayyumma and
ayyumm⁄n make a doublet comparable
with mamma and mamm⁄n (reduplicated
m⁄n?), not only in derivation but also in
meaning. The compound ayyumm⁄n is
perhaps a rare literary alternative of the
common mamm⁄n.
18. The verb Í›lûm signifies an upward
motion. Evidently Bazi will send his messengers to Uruk (where Anum and his
daughter reside) from the Apsû, below the
earth, or from Eridu, which lay downstream of Uruk.
24. The word ubâ’›nim is a further clear example of the II/1 stem of bâ’um (see already
George 2003: 317). Here the stem is not so
much intensive as conditioned by the plurality of the subject.
27. As written the third sign is neither up nor
pa; the original attention was perhaps to
write the consonant plene, i.e. as-ku-up-paa-tum, but human error intervened.
28. The line consists of two nominal clauses,
the second of which is unproblematic. The
last word is dibbum “board of a door” from
Sum. dib, in the dual. Such boards are
known from the lexical list Urra V 207–8:
giÍ
ig.dib, giÍig.dib.ba = da-lat di-ip-pi (var. dibi); and the synonym list Malku (CT 18 3
rev. ii 3): di-ib-bu = da-al-tum. The word
qé-e is evidently the predicative form of
qûm “copper”; door-leaves sheathed in
metal sheets are characteristic of ancient
Mesopotamian monumental buildings.
The first clause is more difficult. It must
also describe some part of the door. One
thinks of ‰ippatum “pine-cone,” for decorative pine-cones are attested in the sources. The procedure for making ‰íp-pat
kaspi(kù.babbar) “cones of silver” out of
other metals is described in a first-millennium technological manual (Oppenheim
1966: 35–38, whose reading ziq-pat was
corrected by AHw 1104); as restored by
10
Babylonian Literary Texts
Oppenheim the text reports that these
could be passed off as silver. A Middle
Babylonian document from D›r-Kurigalzu records the disbursement of large quantities of gold to various craftsmen in order
to make multiple batches of 4 r¤Í¤ti(sag.
du)meÍ 4 ‰i-pa-a-ti “four end-pieces (and)
four cones” (Gurney 1953 no. 4 ll. 6, 9, 12
etc.). They are summarized as sikk⁄ti
“pegs,” once further qualified as Ía ekal
(é.[gal]) ayali(dàra.maÍ) “for the Stag Palace” (ll. 32–33). The archive to which this
disbursement belongs documents the decoration of parts of two palaces at D›rKurigalzu, including the palaces’ gateways
and doors. There is no explicit evidence,
however, for doors being furnished with
decorative cones and, as a description of
such cones, the signs Óa-ar (predicative of
Óarrum, Ó⁄rum?) defy explanation. Consequently the first clause of this line cannot
be definitively parsed and translated.
29. For dead gods in ancient Mesopotamia see
Lambert 1980: 64–65. When I read the
song of Bazi at a seminar in Heidelberg,
Wiebke Meinholdt commented most
astutely that the motif of dead gods as
guardians of cosmic gateways also surfaces
in the poem of Adapa, where Dumuzi and
(Nin)giÍzida are stationed at Anu’s gate.
Future investigations of the iconography of
doorways should bear this in mind.
32. The translation is not definitive; ne-e-er-ma
might also mean “six hundred,” but a derivation from literary nêrum “to slay” is preferred for reasons set out in the introduction. The qualification Ía ruÍê is obscure. I take it from ruÍû, the variant of rusû
“witchcraft,” because then fiakkan Ía ruÍê
stands parallel with n⁄ru rab‹tu Ía kiÍp‹ in l.
33.
33. This verbless line is written over erasures.
Two solutions might be advanced to
explain the lack of verb. Either we are
meant to supply n¤r again, so that fiamaÍ
and the Divine River are slain, or the two
names are vocatives. In the absence of any
36.
37.
38.
40.
42.
43.
tradition that these deities died, as fiakkan
is known to have done, the latter solution
is preferred. There is space to continue on
the right edge, so the word sad⁄ru “to set in
a row” interpolated in small characters
between ll. 33 and 34 appears to be not a
continuation of the line but a gloss. However, its significance is not understood.
The interjection amma is new to Old
Babylonian; it is previously attested in Old
Assyrian. The phrase b¤l parakkim “lord of a
throne-dais” is paraphrastic for “ruler.”
The expression eddam qarn‹n is a damqam‹nim construction already attested in Old
Babylonian literature, as an epithet of the
god Zababa in the poem about Nar⁄m-Sîn
and the lord of ApiÍal (Westenholz 1997:
180 ii 5' e-da-{ta}-am qá-ar-ni-in; cf.
Wasserman 2003: 49); a later variant occurs
in a fragmentary description of Marduk’s
chariot (Lambert 1973: 279): e-di-id qarn[i], which follows a pattern damiq ‹nim.
These are respectively types 1 and 7 in Erica Reiner’s typology of anomalous constructions of adjectives with genitive nouns
(Reiner 1984). Sharp horns also occur as
the attribute of a deity likened to a butting
animal in Ashurbanipal’s inscription from
the temple of IÍtar at Nineveh (Fuchs 1996:
265, l. 7): ri-im!-tú . . . Íá qar-na-a-Íá ed-da
mu-nak-ki-pat za-’i-[ri] “(Ninlil) the wild
cow whose horns are sharp, who gores the
foe.”
The erased sign on the right edge is a dittography of ip.
On t‹rum “eunuch” see George 1997.
In this context the III/1 stem of pal⁄Íum
“to pierce” can mean little more than the
I/1 stem.
The last word might be read Ía-di-a-am-ma
or Ía-qí-a-am-ma, but not without raising
difficulties: accusative Íadi’amma would be
syntactically marooned, stative Íaqi’amma
would pass in the first millennium, but not
in the Old Babylonian period when the
stative was Íaqu. I have assumed a haplo-
The Song of Bazi
graphic writing of eliÍ iÍÍaqi’amma, i.e.
ingressive IV/1 stem. An alternative emendation would be to stative Íaqu’amma, but
the ventive would be unusual appended to
a stative and makes such a reading less
attractive.
44. With [ú]-wa-‰a-ar-ma compare, in an OB
legal document, ú-wa-‰i-ru (CT 48 10: 26),
according to AHw 1498 an unusually
spelled example of the II/1 stem of e‰¤rum
“to draw”; and, perhaps more pertinently,
ú-wa-‰a-ar in a difficult line of an OB hymn
to the Mother Goddess (Krebernik 2003–
11
4: 15 ii 5'), whose editor suggests a derivation either from e‰¤rum or from u‰‰urum “to
listen attentively” (p. 17). The latter verb is
probably a phantom (Lambert 1982: 284),
but neither verb offers a solution in the
present instance.
59. The use here of the verb elûm recalls CH
§58, where the flocks’ departure from the
arable land is noted with the same verb: iÍtu ‰¤n›(u8.udu)Óá i-na ug⁄rim(a.gàr) i-te-li-anim “when the flocks have come up from
the irrigated land.”
COMMENTARY
It remains to deal with matters arising from
this new composition. The following paragraphs will explore the identity of the ram-god
Bazi, the location of his mountain cult-center in
Syria, Enki’s connection with this geographical
area, the social context of the myth of Bazi’s
journey there, and the ritual context of the
composition’s performance.
Bazi
No deity Bazi is known in the temple cults of
south Mesopotamia. However, there is a wellattested tradition according to which the divine
Bazi was a legendary ruler of Mari, on the middle Euphrates. This tradition permeates the historiographic record and literary creativity.
According to the Sumerian King List, as
restored by a tablet from Tell Leilan, the third
and fourth rulers of the dynasty of Mari that precedes the third dynasty of KiÍ are listed as follows:
d
ba.zi lúaÍgab mu 30 in.ak
zi.zi lútúg mu 20 in.ak
Sumerian King List MS TL ii 26'–27',
after Vincente 1995: 242
The god Bazi, a leather-worker, reigned thirty
years;
Zizi, a fuller, reigned twenty years.
C.-A. Vincente (1995: 258) explained the first
sign of AN.ba.zi as dittography from an.ba in the
previous line (ii 25'), but the present text shows
that it is no error and must be read as the divine
determinative. As Vincente noted, Bazi and Zizi
also appear together in the Syrian recension of
the Ballad of Early Rulers, a much-copied second-millennium bilingual composition that
points out how even the most famous kings and
heroes of old might as well never have existed:
me.e mba.[z]i me.e mzi.zi // a-le-e mba-zi a-le-e
m
zi-zi “Where is Bazi, where is Zizi?” (now
Alster 2005: 315 l. 16). This line does not appear
in the Old Babylonian sources from southern
Mesopotamia; it is an example of the interpolation of local subject-matter into an imported
Babylonian text, as is probably the Sutean
nomad’s inclusion among IÍtar’s lovers in the
Emar copy of GilgameÍ (George 2003: 332).
Both Bazi and Zizi were common personal
names in third-millennium Mesopotamia, at
Mari and elsewhere (Vincente 1995: 258). Bazi
of Mari can therefore be characterized as a legendary figure with an ordinary name, who may
or may not have been an historical ruler but in
time became deified. In this respect he resembles GilgameÍ of Uruk. The traditions that collected around the name of Bazi are eclectic and
not necessarily related. One obscure Babylonian
royal house of the eleventh century claimed
descent from mba-zi. This seems to be a fictitious
ancestral name deriving from a place in the district of D›r-Sîn (Brinkman 1968: 158–59); no
12
Babylonian Literary Texts
connection is supposed with the divine Bazi of
Mari and the high land to the west. Notwithstanding his Syrian provenance, the present text
demonstrates that the divine herder Bazi was
assimilated into the southern pantheon as the
son of Enki of Eridu; I shall return to this strange
state of affairs later.
Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r
The Syrian mis-en-scène is confirmed by the protagonist’s home, which is identified as Ía-aÍ-Ía-aar ù ba-Ía-a-ar Íadi’amma “the mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r
and BaÍ⁄r” (l. 16). In the convention of this tablet, the plene spellings of the second syllables
show that they are long. These two mountains
are also paired in a list of mountains that appears
in the lexical text Urra XXII and in a lipÍur-litany
(Reiner 1956: 134 ll. 38–39). The list explains
them both as “the mountain of the Amorites,” a
description already attested for Mt. BaÍ⁄r in the
third millennium, when Nar⁄m-Sîn referred to
ba-sa-ar sa-dú-i mar.dúki (Sommerfeld 2000: 423–
24) and Gudea to ba11.sal.la Óur.sag mar.dú (Stat.
B vi 5–6, ed. Edzard 1997: 34). I quote the relevant part of the list of mountains from a Late
Babylonian source for Urra XXII:
kur.ÍárÍá-ar-Íá-árÍár = Íá-ad a-mu-ur-ri-i
kur.bi-Íar
= MIN MIN
Uruk III 114A i 37–38,
ed. von Weiher 1988: 223
The correct reading of the first of the pair as
fiarÍar (not °iÓi, as formerly read) is established
by the gloss, and corroborated by the spelling
used in the present text (ll. 16, 18). The plene
writings of the present text support the view
that the first name had a good Semitic etymology, from *ÍarÍar, Akk. ÍaÍÍ⁄rum “saw.” Mt.
fiaÍÍ⁄r occurs in other Babylonian narrative
poems. In Anzû I 25 the birthplace of the Anzûbird is recorded as i-na Íár-Íár Íadî(kur)i e-li-[i]
“on fiaÍÍ⁄r, a high mountain,” and his beak was
accordingly shaped like a saw. The Óur.sag sa-saru12 “mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r” is probably also associated with Anzû in a third-millennium Semitic
composition known from copies excavated at
Tell Abu flalabikh in Sumer and Ebla in Syria
(Lambert 1989b: 17). As W. G. Lambert notes,
in Erra IV 139–43 IÍum destroyed Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r
(Íár-Íár) in order to punish the nomadic Suteans,
whose invasion had brought anarchy and civil
war to Babylonia. The strategic importance of
this mountain for repelling the incursion of Syrian tribes is also evident in historiography:
according to Chronicle P the Kassite king
KadaÍman-Óarbe built forts on kur.Íár-Íár in
order to make war on the Suteans (Grayson
1975: 172 i 8).
In an earlier period, fiar-kali-Íarri claims to
have triumphed over the Amorites on ba-saar.kur “Mt. BaÍ⁄r” (Sommerfeld 2000: 435).
The same mountain, reported by Nar⁄m-Sîn to
lie across the Euphrates to those coming from
the Tigris, has long been identified with Jebel alBishri, a ridge of high land that stretches westsouthwest from the middle Euphrates to
Palmyra (Sommerfeld 2000: 428). The history of
settlement on Jebel al-Bishri is becoming better
known through the archaeological survey
project SYGIS-Jebel Bishri (Lönnqvist 2006).
By virtue of its elevation and springs, the ridge
has afforded good grazing and watering to pastoralists throughout history, and has also often
been put to defensive use. The distribution of
the names BaÍ⁄r and fiaÍÍ⁄r led Lambert to conclude that they both referred to the same mountain, with BaÍ⁄r (Bisir and BiÍra at Mari, BeÍri in
Assyrian) the name found in “more prosaic
texts” (Lambert 1989: 17); fiaÍÍ⁄r occurs only in
the literary and scholastic tradition.
The Numinous Mountain
Bazi’s residence deserves some further comment. It is a gaping hole in a mountain, its banks
reach deep into the earth and high into the sky,
and it is full of water. To the mind’s eye this
imagery suggests a volcanic crater lake, and one
can well imagine that such a feature would have
been a singularly numinous place to the peoples
of an arid region like the Syrian desert. However, the Jebel al-Bishri is no such mountain,
and the most prominent volcanic relics lie far
away in the north Jazirah, such as Kawkab on
the headwaters of the Khabur (Stol 1979: 88)
and the less well-known examples near the confluence of the BaliÓ and Euphrates (Catagnoti
and Bonechi 1992: 53), and in the western Syrian desert at Jebel Seis (Jabal Says), well to the
13
The Song of Bazi
south-west of Palmyra (Wirth 1971 pl. 11,
Burns 1999: 138). Much nearer to hand is the
basin of Al-Qawm (El-Kowm etc.), which lies
at the west end of Jebel al-Bishri. The basin is
the site of many prominent tells of strange formation, partly natural and partly man-made,
that lie over springs, so that some are equipped
with deep wells (I am indebted to Denis
Genequand and David Kennedy for drawing
my attention to this place). Water from this
oasis was still plentiful enough in the early
Islamic period to be channeled to the Umayyad
fortified settlement at Qasr al-Hair ash-Sharqi,
more than thirty kilometers away. The combination of high places and deep water in a single
location has been a strategic resource for local
pastoralists and long-distance travellers since the
palaeolithic era. Neolithic and late Uruk period
remains have also been observed in the AlQawm basin, and its several oases continued to
be important to travellers in the early modern
era (see briefly the report by J. Cauvin and D.
Stordeur in Weiss 1994: 109–11). The geology
and history of use make the Al-Qawm oasis an
attractive location for Bazi’s sacred home.
One cannot write on Bazi’s mountain
home without noting in passing the existence of
Tell Bazi, a high Bronze Age citadel on the Euphrates between Carchemish and Emar, which
has been proposed as the Armanum besieged by
Nar⁄m-Sîn (Otto 2006), though its name in the
Mittani era was urupa-zi-ri (Sallaberger et al.
2006). This is too far from Jebel al-Bishri to be
Bazi’s mountain as described in the present text,
but it has some corresponding features: colossal
height, fortification, and a great cistern. One
cannot help wondering whether Tell Bazi’s
name represents the survival of the old god’s
name into the pre-modern era and its application to a suitable local landmark (cf. the use of
Nimrud in toponyms).
Enki-Ea and the Gods
and Mountains of Syria
It was partly the wateriness of Bazi’s home that
invited ancient association with Enki, the god
of fresh water. Jebel al-Bishri was noted for its
fresh-water springs, some of which still provide
water (Minna Lönnqvist, personal communica-
tion). One Babylonian tradition held that the
Syrian “wells of the hill-flanks” were first dug
by GilgameÍ on his way from Uruk to the
Cedar Forest (George 2003: 98). But there is
more. In the light of Bazi’s affiliation to Enki of
the Apsû, it is interesting to find that when the
deified Syrian nomad, Mardu (Akk. Amurru),
was assimilated into the Babylonian pantheon,
one of the places found for him was the same
household. Thus in the great god-list An =
Anum, Mardu-Amurru is the “great ensi of the
Apsû” and Enki’s “supreme ensi”:
d
en5.si.gal.abzu =
d
en5.si.maÓ
=
d
AN.mar.dú
d
mar.dú
An II 292–93
Evidently the Babylonians thought of the
“Westland” beyond Mari as part of Enki’s
domain. This notion surely arose through
Enki’s identification with Ea, already in the
third millennium, for Ea was a deity of great
prominence in Syria and the west from the earliest times (Durand 2008: 222–25).
The connections of Ea-Enki to the western
uplands do not stop with the inclusion of Mardu-Amurru in his household in An = Anum.
According to the same god-list, the twentyeighth name of Ea was dÍárÍá-ar-MINÍár (An II 163).
The same name is explained in other terms in
the following passage of another list:
d
= dGÌR Íá bir-qi
fiakkan is fiakkan of lightning
d
kur.gal = MIN Íá te-lil-te
Great Mountain is fiakkan of purification
d
mar.dú = MIN Íá su-ti-i
Mardu is fiakkan of the Suteans
d
mar.dú = MIN Íá su-ti-i
Amurru is fiakkan of the Suteans
d
Íár.Íár = MIN Íá su-ti-i
d
Íár.Íár is fiakkan of the Suteans
d
GÌR
= MIN Íá Íadî(kur)i
Sumuqan is fiakkan of the uplands
An = Anu Ía am¤li 100–5
(CT 24 42, 89–94)
GÌR
14
Babylonian Literary Texts
Through their shared association with dÍár.
Íár, Ea and fiakkan even came to be equated, so
that in the section of the god-list An = Anum
treating the court of fiamaÍ, where fiakkan finds
a place as the son of fiamaÍ, the following entry
occurs (An III 198): dMIN (su-mu-qa-an) é-a =
MIN (dGÌR dumu dutu.ke4) “Ea can be read as
Sumuqan, who is fiakkan, son of fiamaÍ.” All
this speaks for a local, Syrian image of Ea as a
herdsmen’s god, quite distinct from his role in
conventional Babylonian folklore.
The god dÍár.Íár, identified in Babylonian
theology with Ea and fiakkan of herds and hailing from the land of the Suteans, can be none
other than the deified Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r. The deification of mountains is a religious phenomenon
much attested in ancient north Mesopotamia.
Examples are AÍÍur (Lambert 1983b), Kawkab,
Dibar (Jebel Abd al-Aziz), Saggar (Jebel Sinjar)
and EbiÓ (Jebel Makhul) (Stol 1979: 25–26, 75–
77; George 1992: 467), and it is no surprise that
also the Jebel al-Bishri could be held in such
honor. At Mari the mountains Saggar, EbiÓ,
and Bisir (Jebel al-Bishri) occur in theophoric
personal names of the pattern Mut-DN
(Durand 1991: 84–89). A goddess was also associated with the Jebel al-Bishri, and known at
Mari under the title dU.DAR bi-iÍ-ra “IÍtar of
BiÍra” (Lambert 1985: 527). The place of Bazi in
this nexus is as a fourth element, the ovine herder-god of the deified mountain range.
A Myth of Transhumance
What does it mean that a Babylonian poem
should tell the myth of a divine herdsman who
grew up in Enki’s house in Apsû but then went
off to establish his residence on Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r in
Syria? Those who like to read mythology as a
gloss on political and military events might wish
to find in this story allusions to the campaigns of
conquest prosecuted in the Jebel al-Bishri by
such kings as Nar⁄m-Sîn and fiar-kali-Íarr‹.
However, the tablet’s subscript is the clue to a
very different interpretation.
The tablet’s subscript indicates that the
composition here (and probably also in antiquity) called the song of Bazi was sung on a particular occasion, in›ma ‰⁄b› illû “when the ‰⁄b› go
up.” The present tense of the verb signifies a
recurring performance. While ‰⁄b› often refers
to groups of men on military duty or other
work-assignments, it can also mean less organized groups, even a population in general, as
when Sargon II’s annals refer to the Suteans as
‰⁄b ‰¤ri “people of the desert” (Fuchs 1994: 137
l. 258). It is suggested here that the clause in›ma
‰⁄b› illû refers to the particular time of year in
spring when herdsmen and pastoralist families
moved large flocks of sheep and goats from the
arable land of the plain to distant grazing
grounds at higher elevations (nawûm; on this
practice in second-millennium Babylonia see
Kraus 1976: 172–75). This practice is known as
transhumance. The occasion on which the song
was sung might even be restored as ›m [gamartim] “the day of ‘termination’,” with reference
to §58 of the Codex °ammurapi. The “termination” was a significant date in this transhumance, for it was marked by the public display
of kann› gamartim “the pennants(?) announcing
termination” in the city gates and must have
been agreed upon in advance (see CAD K 157,
Kraus 1976: 174). It would then have been an
appropriate occasion for formal celebratory ritual.
We know that in Old Babylonian documents from lower Mesopotamia the nawûm are
often identified by the name of a city. Association with a particular city need not necessarily
imply a nearby geographical location, for it may
instead refer to an allocation, fixed by tradition
or a higher authority (on different strategies for
the allocation of seasonal pastures see Swidler
1973: 24–25). We do not yet know where the
seasonal grazing grounds of the lower Mesopotamian cities were; on occasions, they may have
been far removed from the city. In Arabia pastoralists have been known to travel as much as a
thousand kilometers to seasonal pastures (Cole
1973: 115); the story of Abraham’s migration
from Ur to Harran, and thence to Canaan,
probably derives from patterns of long-distance
transhumance. The subject matter of the
present poem, the mythical journey of a divine
ram to raise flocks in his new home on Mts.
fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r, would match a seasonal migration by pastoralists perfectly. Like the defeat of
Ti’⁄mat, Bazi’s removal to Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r was imag-
The Song of Bazi
ined to take place annually, as the life of the gods
unfolded in counterpart to events on earth.
What we have, in my view, is a symbolic myth
of transhumance that transfers to the divine
plane an annual event of Babylonian life, in
which a vast throng of flocks and herders left the
cities for extended stays in remote grazing
grounds.
Unfortunately, the song’s subscript is laconic as well as damaged, so that one does not learn
from it whether the song’s context was a temple
ritual, a public festival, or some other event. But
we do know from other sources that the liturgy
of Old Babylonian temple cults employed a
standardized corpus of Sumerian litanies. Even
in the first millennium most of the liturgical
texts chanted inside Esangil, the temple of Mar-
15
duk at Babylon, were in Sumerian. By contrast,
all the songs that accompanied his procession
through the town to the Ak‹tu temple were in
Akkadian; so too were the love lyrics sung
around Babylon during a festival of IÍtar.
Accordingly one would guess that if an Akkadian song like the present one was performed in a
religious context, it was during parts of a festival
witnessed by the public. The use of the Akkadian language may indicate that the song was
composed in a secular environment; it would
certainly have aided public comprehension, if
not also participation. However that may be, the
subscript of this new composition is clear evidence for the performance of an Old Babylonian narrative poem from south Mesopotamia,
something that is itself most welcome.
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
No. 2
5108
Pls. 5–8
more significant differences, deviating in many
details from the text established by Lambert and
Millard. The Old Babylonian period was a time
when literature in Akkadian had not been marshalled into standard editions. Variant recensions are to be expected and are clearly visible
in other well-attested Old Babylonian narrative
poems, such as the Epic of GilgameÍ.
Certain linguistic features support a date for
the present manuscript in the earlier part of the
Old Babylonian period (outlined below). The
choice of signs is overwhelmingly southern (see
also below). Because many of the southern
cities so far productive of cuneiform tablets
became depopulated in the late eighteenth century, the tablet is unlikely to have been later
than this time. This is one hundred years before
the date of writing of the set of tablets from
Sippar that provide the best-preserved version
of the Old Babylonian poem of Atram-Óas‹s.
MS 5108 thus becomes the oldest witness to
this composition yet extant.
This is the upper part of an Old Babylonian
tablet inscribed with two columns of text on
each side and holding an aggregate of eightythree lines of cuneiform, some badly mutilated.
The text is from a version of the poem of
Atram-Óas‹s, a composition that tells the story
of human life on earth, from the time the gods
created mankind as slave-labor to the aftermath
of the flood, when they established constraints
on human fecundity and life span.
Late Old Babylonian tablets from Sippar
were the key to the reconstruction of AtramÓas‹s forty years ago by W. G. Lambert and A.
R. Millard (1969). Alongside the three tablets
written in the late seventeenth century (MSS
A, B and C) Lambert and Millard knew of four
other Old Babylonian sources, most probably
also from Sippar. Two of these are essentially
duplicates of the edition in three tablets (MSS
D and E); the others exhibit enough variation
from it to demonstrate the presence at Sippar of
different recensions of the text (MSS F and G).
Two further Old Babylonian fragments of
Atram-Óas‹s have been published since that
time, both bearing witness to the best-known
recension. One of them contains the same text
as MS D (Groneberg 1991); the other is a
duplicate of MSS A and E save for the omission, probably inadvertent, of six lines (Lambert 1991). The present state of reconstruction
of the Old Babylonian poem, as well as of the
less well-preserved later versions, is clearly seen
in the excellent translations of Benjamin R.
Foster (2005: 227–80). An exhaustive bibliography of the text, line by line, has been compiled by Dahlia Shehata (2001).
In contrast to the near unanimity of the
manuscripts from Sippar it is gratifying to
observe that the tablet published here offers a
glimpse of an edition of the poem with much
Content
The episodes preserved on this piece fall in the
latter part of Tablet II and the opening of Tablet III of the edition from Sippar, when Enlil,
enraged by the failure of his previous strategies
to diminish the numbers of mankind, decides
to bring a flood that will cause its total destruction. It can therefore be compared with parts of
Lambert and Millard’s MSS B // D and C. The
equivalent passage of the Sippar tablets runs
from about Tablet II vi 11 to Tablet III i 10, a
sequence of approximately 115 lines of poetry.
The new piece held about the same number of
lines of poetry, but it breaks poetic lines more
often than the Sippar tablets and clearly spread
its version of the passage over rather more lines
of tablet.
16
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
Because the new tablet is not complete, no
long stretch of consecutive lines is preserved on
it. Instead we have four snatches of text punctuated, in the case of the breaks between columns i–ii and iii–iv, by slightly longer lacunae
and, in the case of the gap at columns ii–iii, by
a considerable interval. These four fragments of
the poem can be described in more detail as follows.
1. Col. i
This column begins with the very end of a
speech by Enlil, repeated by envoys sent to Ea.
In it Enlil recounts how the gods took an oath
collectively, but while Anum and he guarded
the cosmos above and below, Ea (he claims)
subverted the plan. The new text adds to our
knowledge of Enlil’s speech, beginning with a
previously unknown couplet describing how
rains and irrigation water returned to earth (ll.
1–2). When Anum saw the plan had failed, he
abandoned his post in the sky, flying away like
a bird. The implication is that Adad, released
from Anum’s custody, could once more guide
his rainstorms across the sky (see the textual
note on ii 3). At the same time the rivers overflowed, so that crops grew in the fields, food
became available, and mankind was again saved
from starvation (3–6). Because of damage to MS
D these last two points were previously understood as vetitive commands relating to the
future conduct of the gods. The new manuscript shows that they are positive indicative
statements, revealing the full extent of mankind’s recovery. The text continues with Ea’s
reaction to Enlil’s speech, which adds a few
words to what was already known. He sulks in
resentment at Enlil’s accusation that he failed to
keep his word (7–14). It used to be thought that
his reaction included laughter, but a deeper
understanding of the vocabulary makes it likely
that this is a case of enantiosemy (see below, the
textual note on i 9–12).
The preserved text compares with MS D vi
11–19. Lines 1–2 and 4 have no counterparts in
the Sippar text and l. 15 cannot yet be placed;
MS D vi 12 is not visible in the present version.
17
2. Col. ii
Ea has returned to the gods’ assembly to account for his actions. The narrative formula that
introduces his speech (ll. 1–2) is not new to the
Old Babylonian version, but the rest is. Ea does
not offer an apology, as some have supposed,
for he was not guilty. He asserts instead that
there was no need to guard the sky and the
earth, when he himself was strictly controlled
by the gods wherever he went (3–6). He goes
on to explain that two watery beings, Flood
(Mal›ku = Omorka?) and Sea (Ti’⁄mat), whose
job it was to keep the fish of the deep behind
locked doors, had fought and broken the gate’s
bolt, so that fish had escaped and mankind was
saved from famine (7–12). Far from being at
fault, Ea had punished the miscreants (13–15).
Enlil begins to answer, but his speech is lost
(16–18).
This passage is absent from the Sippar text,
where it should fall in the lacuna at the top of
MS D vii. It is possible that ll. 1–2 are the counterparts to the last two lines of MS D vi, which,
though very damaged, can be read as an exactly
parallel couplet introducing direct speech, subject Ea, addressee Enlil (so already Klein 1990:
79 n. 5). However, this would make the missing
lower part of col. i the counterpart to only eight
lines of Sippar text (MS D vi 23–30). This is not
enough, even if spread over sixteen lines of tablet. Either the new piece held a fuller text or the
conversation contained more exchanges between Ea and Enlil and ll. 1–2 represent a repetition of the couplet a little later in the poem.
A different account of this episode appears
in the later, Standard Babylonian version,
where Ea’s speech is related to Enlil by messengers returning from visiting him (MS x rev. ii
14–43). There Ea himself, in the company of his
laÓmu-monsters, guards the fish in a great “seanet” (naÓbalu tâmti) secured with a bar (Íigaru).
The fish somehow escape and break the bar that
confines them. Ea punishes the guards.
3. Col. iii
Ea’s response to Enlil’s speech and the proceedings that follow is to address his fellow gods (ll.
1'–2'). The first part of what he says is already
18
Babylonian Literary Texts
well preserved on MSS B and D. Clearly it has
been proposed that Ea engineer a deluge to
wipe out mankind. He claims not to understand
who or what the Deluge is and that, in any case,
the skill to make one lies with Enlil (3'–6'). But
then the god who knows all arts cannot resist
outlining the way to bring about the great inundation through the combined effort of many
deities, and sets as a deadline the next new
moon (7'–17'). As often in mythology, the idea
was Enlil’s, the approval was the gods’, but Ea
comes up with the practical knowledge to turn
their plan into reality. The end of Ea’s speech is
lost on MS D and fragmentary on the new tablet (18'–20'). It and the following passage of narrative concerning Atram-Óas‹s (21'–25') are hard
to understand.
This column runs parallel to MSS B // D vii
40–53 and continues into the lacuna at the top
of col. viii of those manuscripts. The two couplets BD vii 42–43 and 48–50 are absent from
the version represented by the new piece.
4. Col. iv
When the text resumes, Ea is warning AtramÓas‹s that the gods, urged on by Enlil, have
decreed mankind’s annihilation in the Deluge
(ll. 1'–7'). Atram-Óas‹s weeps (8'–10'). Ea sympathizes but then tells Atram-Óas‹s that he has a
task before him, one that he does not yet know
how to do (11'–19'). With that the tablet ends.
Col. iv of the new piece sets in at MSS B //
D vii 33, though the two lines are not exact
matches (see further the note below). Both versions of the poem agree on the next couplet (iv
2'–3' // BD viii 34–35). Thereafter they
diverge. The last two lines of Tablet II of the
Sippar text are the standard narrative formula
for introducing direct speech, subject AtramÓas‹s, addressee Ea (BD viii 36–37). Lines 5'–7'
of the new text add an extra couplet to Ea’s
speech. Thereafter Atram-Óas‹s’s reaction is not
yet to speak but as described above. Something
like these lines may have occupied the broken
beginning of Tablet III of the Sippar text. That
being so, it is improbable that in III i 13 AtramÓas‹s begs Ea to explain the meaning of a dream;
rather he must ask what Ea means when he talks
enigmatically of this task that he does not yet
know. Some alternative must be sought for the
conventional restoration [Ía Íu-ut-ti] in that line;
perhaps [Ía a-wa-ti-ka w]u-ud-di-a qé-re-eb-Ía
“Teach me the meaning [of what you said!]”
The phrase Ea uses to describe the task set
before his servant is ana aÍrim turrum, an expression that reports the restoration of a previous
state. The task at hand is to build the ark to save
human and animal life and the arts of civilization (as recounted in Tablet III of the edition
from Sippar, MS C). The choice of phrase has
the implication that only thus can Atram-Óas‹s
ensure that the destruction wrought by the Deluge will be followed by the restoration of the
status quo ante. The ark worked as a plan to
thwart Enlil, but Ea did not succeed fully in
restoring the antediluvian world. According to
the very end of the poem, human life was recreated not exactly but in compromised form,
with a much reduced life expectancy.
Aspects of Language and Writing
The poem of Atram-Óas‹s is known for its use of
hymno-epic style. In this new piece examples of
elevated literary forms are the terminative suffix: bub›tiÍ, tiw‹tiÍ (i 4), kam⁄siÍ (iv 9'), and a
superfluous anaptyctic vowel: turraÍu (iv 18')
instead of t›rÍu. The antiquity of the new text
vis-à-vis the Sippar recensions is asserted by the
language: indicative of an older period are the
vowel class of ep¤Íum: ippeÍ (ii 9, iv 4'), nippeÍ (iv
7') v. later ippuÍ, nippuÍ, and the second-person
masculine singular form of the stative conjugation in pars⁄ti: kamÍ⁄ti (iv 14') instead of pars⁄ta.
As a piece of calligraphy the tablet is not the
product of a first-rate scribe. Its appearance is
marred by the use of a split stylus, its authority
compromised by errors of spelling (ii 6, iii 11', iv
14) and graver corruptions (see the notes on i 5–
6 and iv 1'). In col. iv irregular divisions of the
poetic line add to the decipherer’s problems.
Orthographies roughly diagnostic of provenance are the spelling of the syllables /pi/ and
/si/ with the signs pi and sí, which in archival
documents is southern practice: e.g. i-te-pi-ir (i
6), i-Óu-as-sí (i 13), ka-ma-s[í-i]Í (iv 9'). The sign
el is used for the syllable /il/, which may be a
further indication of early Old Babylonian date.
Mimation is not written with any consistency;
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
geminated consonants are also inconsistently
marked. As for vowel length, final vowels that
are the result of the contraction of two vowels
(v) are written plene, as usual. So too are final
vowels of verbs based on finally weak roots: li-irde-e (iii 11'), ta-ba-ki-i (iv 13), ti-di-i (iv 19'), and
final vowels that are long by inflection: Ía-ma-’ìi ((i 1), Ía-mi-iˆ , ú-ga-ru-ú (i 3), ni-Íi-i (i 4, 6), i-lii (i 8, 11), iÍ-bi-ru-[ú] (ii 10), i-lu-ú (iv 2'), am-raa (iii 15'), ú-ba-lu-u (iv 7'); but there are excep-
19
tions in the latter category: ti-im-mi (iii 7') and
ni-Íi (iv 4'). A few short vowels are written plene
in final syllables: wa-Ía-ba-a-am (i 10), wa-né-Íu-ú
(i 13), ma-lu-ku-ú (ii 13), ka-ki-ku-nu-ú (iii 15'),
ri-ig-ma-a-am (iii 19'), Íi-ip-ru-ú (iv 16'). The text
displays two “broken” orthographies of the kind
collected by Brigitte Groneberg: i-Óu-as(us4)-sí (i
13) for ‹Óussi, ga-ma-er-tam (iv 2') for gamertam;
see Groneberg 1980b.
TRANSLITERATION
col. i
1
[ip]-‚pa-ri!(ar)Ÿ-iÍ AN-nu-um i-na Ía-ma-’ì-i
2
[m]i-lu-um i-na na-‚ag-bi-imŸ ú-ka-‚ti-imŸ / ‰[e-ra r]a-ap-Ía
3
Ía-mi-i im-lu-ú ú-ga-ru-ú
4
‚buŸ-b[u]-ti-iÍ ni-Íi-i ti-wi-ti-iÍ / ma-tim
5
a-na ka-ni-i ak-la-am te-ni-Íe-tum
6
i-te-pi-ir-ni nu-Óu-uÍ ni-Íi-i / a-sà-na-an-na
7
i-lu-um i-ta-Íu-uÍ wa-Ía-ba-am
8
a-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía i-li-i 9 ‰i-iÓ-tum i-ku-ul-Íu
10
é-a i-ta-Íu-uÍ wa-Ía-ba-a-am
11
a-na pu-úÓ-ri-im Ía i-li-i 12 ‰i-iÓ-tum i-ku-ul-Íu
13
i-Óu-us4-sí te-ki-ta-am 14 ‚iŸ-na {ras.} wa-né-Íu-ú
15
[x x x]-ir k[u-m]u-ú-um
16
. . . ]x
17
. . . ]x
18
...]x
19
. . . ]-ma
20
. . . de]n-líl?
(about half a column lost)
TRANSLATION
col. i
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
10
11
13
15ff.
(gap)
“Anum flew [off] from the sky,
the floodwaters from the deep covered the broad plain.
The meadowland filled with vegetation,
for the sustenance of the people, for the provender of the land.
The people were eating(!) bread,
feeding themselves on barley, the people’s abundance.”
The god grew annoyed with sitting there,
at the gods’ assembly 9 vexation consumed him;
Ea grew annoyed with sitting there,
at the gods’ assembly 12 vexation consumed him.
He became defiant 14 in his obstinacy, . . .
too fragmentary for translation
Sippar text
// D vi 11
// D vi 13
// D vi 14
// D vi 15
// D vi 16
// D vi 17
// D vi 18
// D vi 19
// D vi 22?
20
Babylonian Literary Texts
col. ii
1
é-a pa-a-Íu [i-pu-Ía-am-ma]
2
i-sà-[q]á-ra-a[m a-n]a qú-r[a-di den-líl]
3
mi-nam i-‚‰ur AN-nuŸ-um dadad(iÍkur) [e-le-nu]
4
ù at-ta mi-nam ta-‰ú-u[r er-‰e-tam] / Ía-ap-li-[tam]
5
a-Ía-ar a-na-ku al-li-k[u-ma]
6
a-Ói!(I°) i-na ka-li-ku-nu Ía-[da-at?]
7
iÍ-ti-nu-um-ma ú-ki-e[l] 8 Ía-ar nu-n[i]
9
ta-Óa-za-am i-pe-iÍ Í[a-nu-um]
10
Íi-ga-ra-am iÍ-bi-ru-[ú] 11 ra-bi-a-[am]
12
ka-bi-it-ma nu-nu-um ‚úŸ-[‰i?-ma] / iÓ-t[a-li-iq]
13
a-tu-ú-ma ma-lu-[k]u-ú / ti-a-am-tum
14
Íe-er-tam aÍ-ta-ka-an 15 Íu-nu-ti ú-‚ÍaŸ-[a]r-di
d
en-líl pa-a-Íu i-[pu]-Ía-am-ma
16
17
i-sà-qá-ra-am [a-na] ‚éŸ-[a]
18
Ía at-ta-ma t[u- . . . ] / [ . . . ]
19
illegible traces
(long gap)
col. iii
1'
‚é-a pa-a-Íu iŸ-[pu-Ía-am-ma
i-sà-qá-ra] 2' a-na i-li-[i aÓ-Ói-Íu]
3'
a-bu-ba-am Í[a ta-qá-ba-ni-ni]
4'
ma-an-nu-um Íu-[ú a-na-ku ú-ul i-de]
5'
a-na-ku-ú-m[a ú-la-ad a-bu-ba-am]
6'
i-ba-aÍ-Íi Íi-[pi-ir-Íu it-ti den-líl]
7'
ti-im-mi d[er-ra-ka-al?] 8' li-na-[sí-iÓ]
9'
li-el-li-ik [dnin-urta mi-iÓ-ri?] 10' li-ip-[ˇù-úr?]
11'
li-ir-de-e giÍguzalûm(gu.‚zaŸ.<lá>) ‚ÍaŸ [dadad(iÍkur)]
12'
mu-ú li-ba-al-ki-t[u] 13' a-ru-r[u-u]m li-ir-p[i-i]Í?
14'
[x x] i tu-‚‰aŸ-ab-<bi> Ía-a[p-la-tim?]
15'
‚amŸ-ra-‚aŸ ka-ki-ku-nu-ú a-t[a-ad-nam?]
16'
a-na ú-um wa-‚arŸ-Ó[i-im] 17' e-pi-iÍ Íi-[ip-ra-am]
18'
ú-la-nu-um da[dad(iÍkur) . . . ]
19'
‚riŸ-ig-ma-‚aŸ-a[m . . . ]
20'
e-pi-[iÍ? . . . ]
21'
Íu-ú wa-a[t-ra-am-Óa-sí-i-sí]
22'
Íi-ip-ra-am [ . . . ]
23'
i-na iÍ-x[ . . . ]
24'
ú-uÍ-Ía?(TA)-x[ . . . ]
25'
i-x-[x (x)]
(about half a column lost)
// D vi 31?
// D vi 32?
// D v 16 // 30 // vi 25
// D v 17 // 31 // vi 26
// D v 18 // 32 // vi 27
// BD vii 40
// BD vii 41
// BD vii 44
// BD vii 45
// BD vii 46
// BD vii 47
// BD vii 51
// BD vii 52
// BD vii 53
// B vii 54 m[u-
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
col. ii
1
Ea [opened] his mouth,
2
saying to the hero [Enlil:]
3
“Why did Anum guard Adad [above,]
4
and why did you guard the nether [earth?]
5
Where I myself did go,
6
by all of you my arm was [tugged(?).]1
7
A certain one there was that held 8 a myriad fish,
9
a second began to start a fight.
10
They broke the 11 great 10 bolt;
12
being a great mass, the fish got [out and] escaped.
13
It was the gatekeepers: Flood(?) (and) Sea!
14
I imposed retribution, 15 I had it pursue them.”
16
Enlil opened his mouth,
17
saying [to] Ea:
18
“That which you [ . . .
(long gap)
col. iii
1'
Ea [opened] his mouth,
[saying] 2' to the gods, [his brothers:]
3'
“The Deluge that [you command of me,]
4'
[I do not know] what (lit.: who) it is!
5'
Am I [to sire a Deluge?]
6'
this task belongs [with Enlil.]
7'
[Errakal(?)] 8' should pull [out] 7' the (mooring)-stakes,
9'
[Ninurta] should go, 10' should [open 9' the dams(?)!]
11'
Let the throne-bearer(!) of [Adad] follow,
12'
let the waters rebel, 13' the wellsprings multiply!
14'
May [the goddess(?) . . . ] scan(!) the nether [regions!]
15'
Behold! I have [provided(?)] you (pl.) with weapons.
16'
By the day of the new moon 17' do this [task,]
18'
thenceforth [let] Adad [ . . . ]
19'
[His] thunder [ . . . . . . ,]
20'
do [ . . . . . . ]”
21'
He, Atram-[Óas‹s . . . ,]
22'
the task [ . . . . . . ]
23'
In . . . [ . . . . . . ]
(gap)
1
Or, reading ina kalêkunu, “as you held (me) back, my arm was [tugged(?)].”
21
Babylonian Literary Texts
22
col. iv
1'
2'
3'
5'
8'
11'
12'
13'
14'
16'
‚i-na-an-na a-a iÍ-me-a a-na a-wa-/at ta-<qabbû>
i-lu-ú iq-bu-ú ga-ma-er-tam
Íi-ip-ra-am le-em-nam 4' a-na ni-Íi i-pe-iÍ den-líl
i-na pu-úÓ-ri-im iq-bu-ú 6' a-bu-ba-am
a-na ú-um wa-ar-Ói-im 7' {ú-ba-lu-ú} ni-pe-iÍ / Íi-ip-ra-am
wa-at-‚ra-amŸ-Óa-sí-‚iŸ-sí 9' ka-ma-s[í-i]Í
ma-Óa-ar é-a 10' i-la-ka ‚diŸ-[ma]-‚aŸ-Íu
é-a pa-a-Íu i-pu-‚ÍaŸ-am-ma
i-sà-qá-ra-am-ma a-na wa-ar-di-/Íu
iÍ-ti-ta-am a-‚na niŸ-Íi / [t]a-‚baŸ-ki-i
Ía-ni-ta-‚amŸ ka-am-Ía!(TA)-ti 15' a-di-ri at-‚taŸ
i-ba-aÍ-Íi Íi-ip-ru-ú 17' a-na e-pe-Íi-im
at-ta 18' a-na aÍ-ri-im tu-ra-Íu 19' la ti-di-i
cf. BD viii 33
// BD viii 34
// BD viii 35
left edge
[ . . . ] im.dub
col. iv
1'
“Now, let them not listen to the word that you [say.]
2'
The gods commanded an annihilation,
3'
a wicked thing 4' Enlil will do to the people.
5'
In the assembly they commanded 6' the Deluge, (saying)
‘By the day of the new moon 7' we shall do the task’.”1
8'
Atram-Óas‹s, 9' as he was kneeling there,
in the presence of Ea 10' his tears were flowing.
11'
Ea opened his mouth,
12'
saying to his servant:
13'
“For one thing you are weeping for the people,
14'
for another, you are kneeling 15' (as) one who fears me.
16'
There is a task 17' to be done,
but you, 19' you know not 18' how to accomplish it.”
1
This translation omits ubbal›, which, as argued in the note on this line, is an intrusion. With it the line
is comprehensible but decidedly inferior: “by the day of the new moon they will bring (it), (saying)
‘We shall do the task.”
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
23
NOTES
i 3. MS D vi 11 transposes subject and object:
[Ía-am-mu] im-lu-ú ú-ga-ra.
i 4. This line occurs earlier in the Sippar text,
at I 339.
i 5–6. These lines correspond to MS D vi 13–
14, which can now be seen to be narrative
and positive, rather than prohibitive:
restore [i-ik]-ka-la-nim te-ni-Íe-[t]u! / [i-t]eep-pí-ra-nim nu-Óu-uÍ ni-Íi dNAGA. In our
text a-na ka-ni-i is evidently corrupt for
ikkal⁄ni, i-te-pi-ir-ni for ‹teppir⁄ni. This is
ep¤rum in the reflexive I/2 stem. The spelling a-sà-na-an-na is for asnan “cereal”; usually this word occurs in the absolute state,
later spelled ás/áÍ/aÍ-na-an, but here it
exhibits a case ending. MS D’s dNAGA is
the synonym niss⁄ba.
i 7. The restorations of MS D vi set out in the
preceding note show that there is not space
for [i-lu]-ma (Lambert and Millard) in MS
D vi 15; read [i]-lu!
i 9–12. The word ‰‹Ótum means both “laughter”
and “distress,” an example of “semantic
polarity” in Akkadian first noted by Klaas
Veenhof (1975–76). Most previous translations have supposed that Ea laughed (e.g.
Lambert and Millard 1969: 83, von Soden
1994: 635, Alster 2006: 34) but I follow the
lead of Veenhof, who first translated ‰‹Ótum
in this passage as “worry/distress” (Veenhof 1975–76: 108, also Dalley 1989: 28,
Foster 2005 [1993]: 245). As Jordan Finkin
notes in his critical study of what are now
called “enantiosemes,” Theodor Nöldeke’s early study of this linguistic phenomenon in the Semitic languages (Arabic
a√d⁄d) found the language of emotions to
be notably productive in this regard and
classified examples as Gemütsbewegungen
und Äußerungen solcher (Finkin 2005: 377,
adding by way of summary that “there
seems to be a tendency for emotional terminology to express both ends of a spectrum of feeling”).
i 13–14. MS D vi 19 has instead [‹Óussi] te-ki-ta ina qá-ti-Íu, lit. “[He took] defiance in his
hand,” where the last word is a substitution
that can be attributed to uncomprehending
interference. The verb wanûm was surely
very rare in Old Babylonian; it is previously attested only in Old Assyrian, where the
cognate verbal adjective conveys the proverbial attribute of donkeys.
ii 1–2. These lines may be matched with MS D
vi 31–32, which can be read [den-ki pa-a-Íu]
i-‚pu-Ía-am-maŸ / [is-sà-qar a-na q]ú-ra-[di]
‚den-lílŸ.
ii 3. The verb in this line is singular, as it is
wherever the line occurs in the Old Babylonian poem (II v 16, 30, vi 25: i‰-‰ú-ur).
Most translators uniformly take Adad as a
joint subject of i‰‰ur with Anum, evidently
deferring to the Standard Babylonian version, where the verb is indeed plural (MS x
rev. i 8, ii 32: i‰-‰u-ru; ii 2, 9: i-na-a‰-‰a-ru
etc.). With Claus Wilcke I assume instead
that the different sources exhibit different
versions of the story, and that the singular
verb has a singular subject. Adad is thus the
object: Anum’s task is to guard the stormgod, so preventing him from sending rain
from the sky (Wilcke 1997a: 115, Schwemer 2001: 422).
ii 8. Fish measured by the Í⁄r occur in the Standard Babylonian version, which is much
expanded at this point but still fragmentary
(MS x rev. ii 21 // 37).
ii 10–11. A late equivalent of this line is MS x
rev. ii 23 // 39: [Íá Íi-ga]-ru iÍ-bi-ru mi-Íil-Íu
ii 12. A great shoal of fish is meant: the singular
n›num is evidently collective.
ii 13. The word read ma-lu-ku-ú denotes in the
present context some personified force of
nature, partner of the female Sea, who
with her guarded the gates that held back
the fish. It brings to mind Diri IV 194–95:
ma-[lu-ug] [AMA.LUL] = ma-lu-uk-tum,
<ma>-ru-uk-tum, a term for goddess; perhaps mal›ku is the masculine counterpart of
24
Babylonian Literary Texts
these words. The watery context raises the
possibility that here is the Babylonian
name that lies behind Berossus’s Omorka,
said by him to be the female ruler of the sea
in obvious confusion with Ti’⁄mat (Jacoby
1958: 371 ’V+kl(t)g_). The addition in
Greek of a vocalic onset and the exchange
of liquid consonant would not be an
obstacle to such an etymology. Nor would
it be discounted by Wolfram von Soden’s
thesis that Omorka’s origin lay in a loanword emaruk(ku) from Sum. amaru “deluge” (AHw 211), repeated by G. Komoróczy (1973: 131–32) and Takayoshi Oshima (2003: 110). Barry Eichler’s etymology
of Sum. amaru analyzed it as a compound,
“a ‘water’ + mar-ru10 ‘wind’” (1992: 94 n.
63), which would discount loans with final
/k/, whether mal›ku or emarukku. However, that Sum. amaru has a final /k/ is
demonstrated by Gudea Cyl. A i 18:
SIG.ba.ni:a.Íè a.ma.ru.kam “for his lower
part he was a deluge” (similarly Edzard
1997: 71), and by the idiom a.ma.ru.kam
“immediately,” lit. “it is the deluge!” This
/k/ suggests that amaru is a genitive compound, perhaps, to adapt Eichler, a +
mar.ru10-ak “water of tempest.” Both
emarukku and our mal›ku are thus viable
loanwords from the Sumerian word.
The Standard Babylonian version of this
line shows heavy editorial intervention
that has changed its meaning almost completely (MS x rev. ii 24): [ . . . a]d-du-ku
ma-a‰-‰a-ru tam-ti.
ii 14–15. The damaged signs read ú-Ía-ar-di
might also be read ú-u[Í]-re-di, III/II stem.
The Standard Babylonian counterpart to
this line stretches over three lines (MS x
rev. ii 25–27): [Íèr-ta áÍ]-kun-Íu-nu-ti e-ninÍu-nu-ti / [ul-tu-ma?] e-ni-nu-Íu-nu-ti / [úter?]-ma Íèr-ta e-mi-id.
iii 6'. The line is partly transposed on MSS B
// D vii 47: Íi-pí-ir-Íu i-ba-aÍ-Íi it-[ti den-líl].
iii 7'. The restoration is made from MSS B // D
vii 51, where a synonym of timm‹ is used:
ta-ar-ku-ul-li der-[ra-ka-al li-na-si-iÓ] (cf. SB
Gilg XI 102: tar-kul-li dèr-ra-kal i-na-as-saÓ).
iii 9'–10'. The line is restored after SB Gilg XI
103: il-lak dnin-urta mi-iÓ-ri ú-Íar-di. There
are other possibilities for the second verb,
counterpart to uÍardi, besides lip[ˇur]; an
obvious alternative is lip[te].
iii 11'. Cf. SB Gilg XI 101, where fiullat and
°aniÍ are the plural guzalûmeÍ who herald
the coming of the storm-god.
iii 13'. The word ar›rum signifies a source of
water, here cosmic; cf. Malku II 54–56: aru-ru = mû(a)meÍ Íap-lu-tum “subterranean
water,” mu-‰e-e me-e “outflow of water,”
mu-u “water.”
iii 16'–17'. That the onslaught of the Deluge
was set for the day of the new moon was
already known from the narrative (III ii
39).
iii 24'. Apparently not ú-uÍ-Ía-ab, or any other
form of waÍ⁄bum.
iv 1'. The feminine plural subject of iÍme’⁄ must
be Atram-Óas‹s’s people (niÍ›), who will
disregard his cryptic warnings of the coming flood. In MS D the line is slightly different, and the advice there is to ignore
what the elders will say, presumably when
they observe Atram-Óas‹s building his ark
(MS D vi 33): ¤ taÍmi’a ana Íi-‚iŸ-[bu-tim].
Both lines seem a bit premature as the text
stands, for Ea’s instructions to build a boat
and his cryptic warning do not occur until
the next episode (OB III col. i). Note the
calamitous end to the line, where the
scribe failed to complete taqabbû, either
through corruption or for lack of room.
iv 4'. The verb ippeÍ is present-future; so too
must be i-pu-uÍ in MS D viii 35.
iv 5'–6'. For ab›bam qabûm see above, iii 3' and
parallels.
iv 6'–7'. The clause ana ›m warÓim nippeÍ Íipram
repeats, in the 1st pl. as the gods’ assent, the
command of Enlil voiced in iii 16'–17': ana
›m warÓim epiÍ Íi[pram]. Thereby the
extent of the poetic line is established, and
ubbal› identified as a corrupt intrusion.
iv 9'–10'. The clause maÓar Ea illak⁄ dim⁄Íu is a
variation on a much used poetic line; for
A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns
lines on the same pattern see George 2003:
839 and 2007: 252. The parallels establish
the boundaries of the poetic line.
iv 14'. If not a spelling error, ka-am-ta-ti may
be an example of the interchange of /Í/ and
/t/ (see the remarks of Lambert and Millard 1969: 165 sub viii 14).
25
A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s
No. 3
2950
Pls. 9–10
his blood congeals, as if ice flows in his veins,
and his insides are blocked, perhaps an indication of imperviousness to pity.
The second couplet describes the suffering
of animals and humans: for lack of food, their
stomachs hurt, and the only sound they can
make is to weep (3–4). The context is thus not
the aftermath of the Deluge, which only
Atram-Óas‹s survived, but the famine that
resulted from one or other of Enlil’s earlier
strategies for humankind’s destruction. In the
third couplet, Atram-Óas‹s notices the problem
and reports it to Ea (5–6). This couplet is structurally parallel to other lines that record how
Atram-Óas‹s sought the advice of his mentor
(e.g. Enki in OB I 364–9), but is a much shorter
narrative formula.
This small tablet survives only in its upper part,
which holds on its very worn surface a short
excerpt of ten lines from an Old Babylonian
version of the poem of Atram-Óas‹s. The sage’s
name is written Watram-Óas‹s, and his divine
mentor is Ea, not Enki.
Content
The lines come from one of the episodes in
which Enlil inflicts suffering on humankind
and Atram-Óas‹s seeks Ea’s help to avert catastrophe. Only the first three couplets of the
excerpt are deciphered. In the first, the topic is
Enlil’s intransigence (ll. 1–2). This is clear from
the second line, ina libb‹Íu ul imtallik, which
expresses Enlil’s failure to consider the consequences of his actions. The same motif occurs
in the best-preserved version of the poem,
when the Flood has all but wiped out humankind (III iii 53, ed. Lambert and Millard 1969:
96): Ía la im-ta-al-ku-ma iÍ-ku-nu a-[bu-ba] “who
did not take counsel, but brought about the
Deluge.” From there very similar lines find
their way into the Epic of GilgameÍ (SB XI
170, 184). The first line of the couplet is without parallel; it seems to describe the hardening
of Enlil’s heart against his people. The line is
couched in vocabulary that is almost medical:
Aspects of Language and Writing
Mimation occurs only where CVC-signs are
available; geminated consonants are written
plene, except in issaqqaram (l. 8). As in the preceding text, the Auslaut of a verb from a finally
weak root is written plene, i-ba-ak-ki-i (6); spellings follow southern conventions: i-ip-pe-eÍ, piÍa (5), wa-at-ra-am-Óa-sí-is (7), is-sà-qá-ra-am (8);
and the verb ep¤Íum is conjugated in the Ablautclass, present-future ippeÍ (5).
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
3
4
6
7
[ik-ka-a‰?]-‰a-‚ar daŸ-mu 2 e-‚síŸ-il ka-ar-Íu {x}
i-na li-ib-bi-Íu ú-ul im-ta-[al-l]i-‚ikŸ
e-em-re-et ú-ma-am-tum 5 ú-ul i-ip-pe-eÍ ‚piŸ-Ía
e-em-re-‚etŸ a-wi-l[u-tum] i-ba-‚ak-ki-iŸ / r[i-g]im-Ía
i-nu-‚miŸ-Íu ‚ap-kaŸ-[al-l]um wa-at-ra-‚am-Óa-sí-isŸ 8 i-mu-ur
is-sà-‚qá-raŸ-am a-na é-a / be-‚lí-ÍuŸ
26
A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s
9
10
11
gap
rev.
1'
1
3
4
6
7
9ff.
27
[x x] x x x x x x x x x x
[x x x] x x Óe e ri x x pa Íi
traces
illegible traces
TRANSLATION
Blood congealed(?), mind being bloated,
he was not taking counsel with his own self.
Livestock had stomach-cramp, 5 unable to make any sound,
humankind had stomach-cramp, weeping (as) its sound.
Then the sage Atram-Óas‹s 8 saw,
he spoke to Ea, his lord:
undeciphered
2
NOTE
2. I do not think better sense would come by
reading e-‰í-il karÍu “the mind was lame.”
The phrase esil karÍum is comparable to libbu(Íà) e-sil, which is found in a list of diseases (CT 19 3 i 6). For the literal meaning
of libbum es¤lum see En›ma eliÍ IV 100: in-
né-sil lìb-ba-Íá-ma “her insides became
bloated,” a phrase that describes Ti’⁄mat’s
discomfort when Marduk filled her full of
wind. In our passage, the expression is
metaphorical: Enlil’s mind (karÍum) is full
of wind, rendering it immobile and unmoving.
A Fragment of GilgameÍ
No. 4
2652/5
This fragment from the middle of a single-column tablet holds on its obverse the remains of
eight lines and on its reverse damaged traces of
five further lines. It was previously published in
my critical edition of the Babylonian GilgameÍ
as OB Schøyen1 (George 2003: 219–24 and pl.
7). The piece has since been baked but it was
already very legible, and no new readings have
emerged as a result of its conservation. One
Pls. 11–12
minor improvement has been made to the
copy of the obverse, where the tail of the vertical wedge of ma is now visible at the end of l.
5', confirming the reading ri-bi-‚tu maŸ-[tim].
The cuneiform is reproduced in this volume in
order to report this addition to knowledge, but
it is unnecessary to repeat the edition, to which
I have nothing to add.
28
GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
No. 5
3025
Pls. 13–16
the first edition of the text, the present version
mentions the “land of Ebla” in the narrative of
GilgameÍ and Enkidu’s journey to the Cedar
Forest: Íunu iˇÓû ana m⁄t-Ibla (26). Formerly I
thought this was the goal of their journey and
noted that the “location of Ebla’s forest was
more likely to have been on nearby Mount
Amanus than in the Lebanon ranges” (George
2003: 226).1 However, later in the narrative it is
now possible to read what seems to be another
place name, °amran, written Óa-am-ra-an (55),
where the heroes rest after running all day and
all night. The next couplet describes °amran as
a mountain or land inhabited by Amorites, i.e.
in Syria (56), where °uwawa’s roar can be
heard in the distance (57). This place would
thus appear to be nearer the ultimate goal of the
heroes’ journey, and clearly far from Babylonia,
in or beyond the “land of Ebla.” But, while
°amran is an attested toponym elsewhere, no
mountain or land of this name is known in Old
Babylonian Syria, and for the moment it
remains an enigma.
In the light of the significant additions to
knowledge arising during the past few years, it
has been thought desirable to give the text here
in its entirety, complete with a revised translation. For an introduction to the text and further philological notes see still the first edition.
This tablet was first published in my critical
edition of the Babylonian GilgameÍ as OB
Schøyen2 (George 2003: 224–40 and pls. 8–9).
It contains 84 lines from an Old Babylonian
version of the epic, describing the approach of
GilgameÍ and Enkidu to the Cedar Forest, and
relating two of the ominous dreams that GilgameÍ saw en route. Studying the tablet in the
company of the Schøyen Collection’s other
Old Babylonian literary texts reveals that it is
similar enough, physically and in its untidy,
angular style of ductus, to MS 3285 (Text No.
10), to raise a suspicion that the two pieces stem
from the same source.
Since MS 3025 was first copied it has been
baked and cleaned, with the result that more
text can be read. Minor improvements have
been made to the copy of the obverse in ll. 18,
24, 26–30, 33–38, 40, 42. The tablet’s bottom
edge is now easier to read, but ll. 46–48 still
present some unsolved problems. On the
reverse, where damage is more extensive,
greater gains have been made. Lines 61–62 and
69–70 have been revealed as parallel couplets,
and ll. 51, 55, 56, 78–81 and 83 have also been
fully conquered. In addition, collation has
yielded small but important results in ll. 58, 60,
63, 72 and 74. At the same time, the reaction of
other scholars and my own second thoughts
have led me to return to some readings, and to
revise the edition further in ll. 1b, 6, 7, 9, 18
and 38. The new readings are annotated in the
notes below, which also incorporate addenda
already published (George 2004).
One important new reading affects our
understanding of the location of °uwawa’s
cedar mountain in this version of the poem of
GilgameÍ. Other versions of the epic, Old and
Standard Babylonian, place °uwawa-°umbaba in Lebanon. As noted in the introduction to
1
29
To the discussion of Ebla as a source of cedar
in Sumerian literature (George 2003: 225–26),
add Gudea Statue B v 54, which tells of various woods Óur.sag ib.la.ta “from the mountain range of Ebla” (ed. Edzard 1997: 33).
30
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TRANSLITERATION
obv.
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sa-ki-ip ni-il
Íu-na-tam mu-Íi-ia-tum bi-l[a?] {x}
i-na qá-ab-li-tim Íi-‚itŸ-ta-Íu ú-ga-al-li-is-sú
it-bé i-ta-wa-a a-na ib-ri-Íu
ib-ri ‚aŸ-ta-mar Íu-ut-tam
am-mi-‚nimŸ la te-ed-ki-a-ni ma-di-‚iÍ pa-al-ÓaŸ-[at]
i-na bu-di-ia e-mi-da-am Ía-di-a-am
Ía-du-um i-qù-pa-am-ma i-se-Óa-an-[ni]
bi-ir-ki-ia ‚il-taŸ-wi lu-tum
a-Ói-ia Ía-lum-ma-‚tumŸ ud-da-an-ni-in
iÍ-te-en eˇ-lum la-bi-‚iÍŸ [iˇ-Ó]e-a-am
i-na ma-tim na-wi-ir-ma d[u-u]m-qá-am-ma d[a-mi-iq?]
i‰-ba-at-ma ku-bu-ur e-m[u-q]í-ia
Ía-ap-la-nu Ía-di-im-ma iÍ-‚ta-al-pa-anŸ-ni
d
en Íu-ut-tam i-pa-aÍ-Ía-ar
iz-za-‚aq-qáŸ-ra-am-‚maŸ a-‚na dŸGIfi
i-na-an-na ib-ri Ía ni-il-la-ku-‚ÍumŸ
ú-ul Ía-du-um-ma-a nu-uk-ku-ur mi-‚im-maŸ
i-na-an-na dÓu-wa Ía ni-‚ilŸ-la-ku-Íu[m
ú-u]l Íadûm(kur)-[m]a nu-‚uk-kuŸ-ur m[i-im]-‚maŸ
te-en-né-em-mi-da-ma iÍ-ti-a-at te-‚epŸ-pu-uÍ
pár-‰a-am Ía mu-tim Íi-‚pi-ir-ti zi-kaŸ-ri
ur-ta-a’-a-ab uz-za-‚ÍuŸ e-li-ka
ú-la-wa pu-lu-‚uÓŸ-ta-‚ÍuŸ bi-ir-ki-‚kaŸ
ù Ía ta-mu-ru-Íu dÍamaÍ(utu)-‚ma Íar-ruŸ
i-na u4-mi Ía da-an-na-tim i-‰a-ab-‚baŸ-at qá-at-ka
dam-qá-at dGIfi Íu-ut-ta-Íu ‚iÓ-duŸ
i-li-i‰ li-‚ib-ba-ÍuŸ-ma ‚pa-nuŸ-Íu ‚itŸ-ta-‚am-ruŸ
ma-la-‚akŸ ›makkal(ud.1.‚kamŸ) ‚ÍiŸ-na ù Ía-la-‚Íi-imŸ
Íu-nu iˇ-Óu-<ú> a-na ma-ti-ib-‚laŸ
i-li-ma dGIfi a-na ‰e-er Íadîm(kur)
it-ta-na-ap-la-ás ka-li-Íu-nu ‚ÓurŸ-sa-MI
i-na ki-im-‰i-Íu ú-um-mi-dam zu-qá-[a]s-sú
Íi-it-tum ra-Ói-a-at ni-Íi im-qù-‚usŸ-sú
i-na qá-ab-li-tim Íi-it-ta-Íu ú-ga-‚alŸ-li-is-sú
it-bé i-ta-wa-am a-na ib-ri-[Í]u
ib-ri a-ta-mar Ía-ni-tam
e-li Íu-ut-tim ‚ÍaŸ a-mu-‚ruŸ pa-ni-tim pa-al-‚Óa-atŸ
is-si dadad(iÍkur) er-‰e-tum i-ra-am-mu-um
u4-mu i’-a-pi-ir ú-‰i ek-le-t[u]m
[i]b-ri-‚iqŸ bi-‚irŸ-qum in-na-pí-iÓ i-Ía-tum
[n]a-ab-lu iÍ-‚puŸ-ú i-za-‚anŸ-nu-un mu-tum
GIfi
d
GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
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1
TRANSLATION
GilgameÍ was lying down at rest;
“O night, bring me a dream!”
In the middle watch of the night he awoke with a start,1
he arose to talk to his friend:
“My friend, I have had a dream!
Why did you not rouse me? It was very frightening!
With my shoulder I propped up a mountain;
the mountain collapsed on me, pressing me down.
Feebleness enclosed my legs,
a radiant brightness overpowered my arms.
There was a man, like a lion [he drew] near me,
shining brightest in the land and most [comely] in beauty.
He took hold of my upper arm,
from under the mountain itself he pulled me forth.”
Enkidu explained the dream,
saying to GilgameÍ:
“Now, my friend, the one to whom we go,
is he not the mountain? He is something strange!
Now, °uwawa to whom we go,
is he not the mountain? He is something strange!
You and he will come face to face and you will do something unique,
the rite of a warrior, the task of a man.
He will make his fury rage against you,
terror of him will encircle your legs.
But the one you saw was King fiamaÍ,
in times of peril he will take your hand.”
It being favorable, GilgameÍ was happy with his dream,
his heart became merry and his face shone bright.
A journey of one whole day, two and three,
they drew near to the land of Ebla.
GilgameÍ climbed up to the top of a hill,
he looked around at all the mountains.
He rested his chin on his knees,
the sleep that spills over people fell on him.
In the middle watch of the night he awoke with a start,1
he arose to talk to his friend:
“My friend, I have seen another!
It was more frightening than the previous dream I had.
Adad cried aloud, while the land was rumbling,
the day became shrouded, darkness went forth.
Lightning flashed down, fire broke out,
flames flared up, while death was raining down.
Literally: “his sleep startled him.”
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edge
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rev.
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a-n[a] ri-gi-im dadad(iÍkur) ‚enŸ-né-Íu a-na-ku
i-‚ˇùŸ-ma u4-mu ‚eŸ-mi a-‚alŸ-la-ku ú-ul i-‚deŸ
a-di-ma ki-a-am-ma Íu-up-pu-tum ib-te-li i-Ía-tum
[n]a-ab-lu im-ta-aq-qù-tu i-‚tuŸ-ru la-a’-mi-iÍ
[e]k-le-tum it-ta-wi-ir ilum(dingir)lu[m i]t-‚taŸ-[‰]í
x x x x ir-di-a-am-‚ma úŸ-x x [(x)] x
[den Íu-ut-ta]m i-pa-aÍ-Ía-[a]r
‚iz-zaŸ-a[q-qá-ra-a]m-ma a-na dGIfi
[x x x x ]x-ma dadad(iÍkur) i-‚Ía!Ÿ-ás-[si]
[x x x x x]-ma i-ra-aÓ-Óu-ba-ni-{a}-ka
[x x x x x] x x x x-ka e-li-Í[u]
[x ]x x[ x x ]x-ma i-na-wi-ra i-na-ka
x x x [Ía it?-t]a?-ap-pa-Óu-‚kumŸ el-le-‚tumŸ
x x x [x n]a-ab-‚liŸ ù ka-ak-[k]i-‚ÍuŸ
[t]a-‚ÍaŸ-a[k-k]a-nam a-na di-da-‚al-liŸ
da-‚amŸ-[qá Í]u-na-tu-ka ‚iŸ-lum it-<ti>-‚kaŸ
‚Íi-ibŸ-[q]á-‚ti?-ka?Ÿ ‚ta-ka-aÍ-Ía!Ÿ-ad ar-Ói-‚iÍŸ
ir-t[a-a]Ó-‰[ú] u4-ma-‚amŸ ù mu-Íi-‚tamŸ
a-n[a Ó]a-am-ra-an iˇ-‚ÓuŸ-ú e-re-Íi-im [uÍ?]-‚bu?Ÿ
[Ía-a]d a-[mu]-ur-‚ruŸ-um ‚wa-aÍŸ-bu
[u4]-mi-‚Ía-amŸ [i]Í-[t]e-né-‚emŸ-mu-ú ‚ri-gim dŸÓu
i-[ˇ]ù-‚ÍuŸ-[nu]-‚ti maŸ-a‰-‰[a-r]u e-re-‚nimŸ
‚Ía úŸ-[tá]r-ru k[a-l]i-Íi-na i-‚raŸ-tim
[dÓu-wa m]a-a[‰]-‚‰a-ruŸ e-re-nim
‚Ía úŸ-[t]ár-ru ka-li-Íi-na i-ra-tim
[den iÍ-Íi] ‚iŸ-ni-[Íu] i-ta-mar e-‚re-namŸ
[me-lem-ma]-‚ÍuŸ [k]a-‚ti-im ÓuŸ-ur-sa-ni
k[i-ma n]a-‚akŸ-sí-‚imŸ i-ri-‚qùŸ pa-[n]u-Íu
i-r[u-ub a-d]i-ir-tum a-na [l]i-ib-[b]i-Í[u]
‚dŸGIfi i[t-b]a-‚la-amŸ pa-ni-Íu
iz-za-‚aq-qáŸ-r[a-a]m-ma a-na den
‚am-mi-ni ib-ri i-riŸ-qù pa-nu-k[a]
‚iŸ-r[u-u]b a-di-ir-tum a-n[a l]i-ib-bi-‚kaŸ
‚den pa-ÍuŸ i-pu-Ía-am-m[a
i]z-‚za-aq-qá-ra-am-ma a-naŸ dGIfi
aÍ-Íi-ma ‚ibŸ-ri i-‚ni-iaŸ a-‚ta-mar e-reŸ-nam
me-lem-ma-‚Íu kaŸ-ti-‚imŸ Óur-[s]a-ni
ma-an-nu-‚umŸ-[m]a ilam(dingir) Ía-ti ‚i-ge-erŸ-re-Íu
‚Ía daŸ-an-nu ‚kaŸ-ak-ka-Íu i-‚na i-gi-giŸ
‚dŸÓu ‚Ía-tiŸ ni-ge-er-re-[Íu]
‚Ía da-nuŸ-{um} ka-ak-ka-Íu i-na k[i-ib-r]a-‚timŸ
‚ù kiŸ-[a-a]m-‚ma ib-ri iŸ-r[i]-‚qù paŸ-nu-[a]
i-ru-[ub] ‚a-diŸ-ir-tum a-na ‚li-ib-bi-iaŸ
GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
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1
At the sound of Adad I grew bewildered,
the day went dark, I knew not where I was going.
At long last(?) the fire that flared so high died down,
one by one the flames diminished, they turned to embers.
The gloom brightened, the god shone forth,
. . . he led here and . . . ”
[Enkidu] explained the [dream,]
saying to GilgameÍ:
“[ . . . ] . . . Adad was calling,
[ . . . ] and will rage against you.
[ . . . ] your . . . against him,
[ . . . ] and your eyes will grow bright.
[Like(?)] the bright [fire that was] kindled for you,
. . . flames and his weapons, 51 you will render into ashes.
Your dreams are favorable, a god is with(!) you,
you will quickly achieve your plans(?).”
On they sped that day and night,
to °amran they drew near, on the summit sat down(?),
the [mountain] where the Amorite dwells,
daily hearing the voice of °uwawa.
He watched them, the guardian of the cedar,
he that repels every advance,1
[°uwawa, the] guardian of the cedar,
he that repels every advance.1
[Enkidu raised] his eyes and saw the cedar,
its [splendor] covering the uplands.
His face turned pale, like a severed (head),
terror entered his heart.
GilgameÍ took pity on him,
saying to Enkidu:
“Why, my friend, did your face turn pale,
and terror enter your heart?”
Enkidu opened his mouth,
saying to GilgameÍ:
“I raised my eyes, my friend, and saw the cedar,
its splendor covering the uplands.
Who can withstand that god,
whose weapon is mightiest among the Igigi?
Shall we withstand that °uwawa,
whose weapon is mightiest in the world?
And so, my friend, my face turned pale,
terror entered my heart.”
Literally, “turns back chests, all of them.”
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GI[fi p]a-Íu ‚iŸ-pu-Ía-am-ma
iz-za-aq-qá-ra-am-‚ma a-naŸ [de]n
ú-u[l li]-‚ib-biŸ iÍ-Íi-a-an-ni-ma ‚iŸ-[na?] le-‚’u5?Ÿ-[t]i?-i[a?]
‚Ía?-am?-Íum?Ÿ iq-bi-a-‚amŸ [al-l]a-ak-mi it-[ti]-‚ka?Ÿ
‚e taŸ-du-ur den ‚ú-‰urŸ ia-a-ti
qá-ab-[l]am Ía la ti-du-ú lu-Íe-pi-iÍ l[i?-b]i?
nu-ba-at-tam is-ki-pu i-ni-lu!
id-[k]a-‚ÍuŸ-ma Íi-it-ta-Íu i-pa-aÍ-Ía-a[r-Í]um
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚ib-ri aŸ-ta-mar Ía-lu-uÍ-tam
d
NOTES
1b. The reading of the word in final position as
imperative instead of active was suggested
by Khait and Nurullin 2006: 529–30. The
last trace is not of -am or ni, however; it is
a wedge leaning back from the vertical.
6. The second verb was formerly understood
as ‹siÓanni from es¤Óum “to gird.” The parsing from se’û “to push down,” a verb not
previously encountered in Old Babylonian, is the suggestion of Khait and Nurullin 2006: 530, who understood it as perfect.
I take it as present, iseӉnni, describing the
result of the mountain’s collapse.
7. As pointed out by Khait and Nurullin
2006: 530–31, my emendation of lu-tum to
puluÓtum in the light of l. 20 was ill-judged,
especially since l›tum and birku are found
together in Ludlul II 78 and SB GilgameÍ
IV 242, as restored in George 2003: 600.
8. For dunnunum in the sense “to overpower”
rather than “to strengthen,” see another
dream account, SB GilgameÍ VII 171: i‰bat
qimm⁄t‹ya udanninanni y⁄Íi “he took hold of
my hair, he was too strong for me” (Khait
and Nurullin, private communication).
9. Previously I read labiÍ [pal]âm “clad in a
royal mantle.” This can still be defended
but there are other possibilities. Khait and
Nurullin suggest la-bi-i[Í it-b]é-a-am and
translate “arose (to me) like a lion” (2006:
531). In the context of wild animals tebûm
is a verb of aggression, meaning “to rear
up, attack.” The figure in the dream comes
to GilgameÍ’s aid, however, and l⁄biÍ tebûm
is not in keeping. Khait and Nurullin’s
parsing of l⁄biÍ as a modal adverb is a good
one, however, adding a further example of
such a formation in Old Babylonian to
those identified by W. G. Lambert and collected by Mayer 1995: 171 n. 28. If it is the
correct parsing, the last word of the line is
to be reconstructed as a verb, as they saw,
but as [iˇ-Ó]e-a-am rather than [it-b]é-a-am.
The broken sign is a better Óe than bé, and
the verb ˇeÓûm is less aggressive than tebûm.
18. My former decipherment of the first sign
overlooked the fact that the sign BAR was
already used with the value pár (if rarely) in
the Old Babylonian period. The revised
reading and the recovery of the whole line
are owed to the brilliance of Khait and
Nurullin, who caught the sense of the line
and made me revisit it. They read the line
as par‰am Ía mutim piÍirti ikkari and translated “a ritual of a man, an exorcism of a
plowman,” noted a parallelism between
par‰um and piÍertum, mutum and ikkarum
and commented that the line offered “an
explanation of iÍti⁄t ‘something unique’
that Gilgamesh was supposed to make
when he would meet °uwawa, but we can
say nothing about its exact meaning”
(Khait and Nurullin 2006: 532).
What happens when GilgameÍ met
°uwawa was a titanic struggle so violent
that the very mountain split asunder, and
the logical conclusion is that the enigmatic
par‰am Ía mutim and the phrase that follows
it allude to this extraordinary act of single
GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
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GilgameÍ opened his mouth,
saying to Enkidu:
“Did not enthusiasm carry me away in the fullness [of my power(?)]?
But the sun god(?) said to me, ‘[I shall] go with [you(?).]’
Do not fear, O Enkidu, keep watch on me!
I will have myself a battle such as never you knew.”
They pitched camp for the night, they lay down;
his sleep roused him and he (G.) revealed (his dream) to him (E.):
“My friend, I have seen a third!”
combat. The former phrase is easier to
explain. It evokes the noble sentiment that
warfare is a socio-religious duty or rite
(par‰um) for able-bodied young men
(mutum). This sentiment permeates ancient
Mesopotamian literature: in an Old Babylonian poem about Sargon the prospect of
battle is articulated by the line [i]-si-nu-um
Ía mu-ti in-né-pu-uÍ “the festival of warriors
will take place” (ed. Westenholz 1997: 62 l.
19); in Lugale 136 battle is ezen nam.
guruÍ.a // i-sin-ni eˇ-lu-ti “the festival of
young men”; in Erra I 51 it is said that a-lak
‰¤ri(edin) Ía eˇ-lu-ti ki-i Íá i-sin-nu-um-ma
“the young men’s departure for the battlefield is like a time of festival.” Warfare is
also described as isinnum “a festival” in the
AguÍaya poem (Groneberg 1997: 76 iii 7
// 11) and the Tukult‹-Ninurta epic (Kuk
Wong Chang 1981: 99 iiia 20, 106 v 11).
While the second of the two phrases is
so damaged that the reading piÍerti ikkari
cannot be excluded on orthographic
grounds, it seemed to me on collation that
a better semantic parallel with par‰am Ía
mutim can be obtained by reading instead
Íipirti zikari. In this phrase Íipirtum is a synonym of Íiprum “task, duty,” and thus
restates par‰um but in a more mundane and
less idealized way; zikarum is likewise a
synonym of mutum, but less literary. In this
way the line juxtaposes two phrases that
display Babylonian idealism and practice
respectively.
38. The sign before an⁄ku was revealed after
cleaning to comprise only three wedges,
discounting both my former decipherment
en-ni-iÍ7 and Khait and Nurullin’s en-né-ˇù
(2006: 532–33). I now parse the word in
question from eÍûm. This verb is conventionally booked as i/i class, so that the IV/
1 preterite 1.sg. is expected to be enneÍi, as
indeed it is in the Old Babylonian Nar⁄mSîn legend iii 8: a-na-ku es-‚se-ÓiŸ en-né-Íi “I
grew confused and bewildered” (ed. Westenholz 1997: 272). The late version of this
text has instead forms with final /u/: in l.
88 the indicative es-se-Óu en-né-Íú and in l.
154 the negative imperative la te-(es5)-se-eÓÓu la te-en-neÍ-Íú “be not confused, be not
bewildered” (ed. Gurney 1955, cf. Westenholz 1997: 318, 326 l. 156). The sources
of the late version are tablets from Sultantepe, where an unexpected quality of
final vowel would usually be shrugged off,
and from Nineveh, where wrong stem
vowels in final position are rare but not
unknown (e.g. George 2003: 441 sub t).
However, the spelling te-es5-se-eÓ-Óu in l.
154 (MS C, Nineveh) retains in Ifi = es5 a
peculiarly Old Babylonian value, so that
perhaps the spellings are there faithful to a
second-millennium forerunner. Given the
present attestation, on an Old Babylonian
tablet, of enneÍu instead of enneÍi, it looks as
if there was indeed a time when eÍûm was
sometimes conjugated as a verb of the u/u
class. Another case of a verb exhibiting
36
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both /u/ and /i/ in final position occurs
in the next line.
39. The decipherment i-‚ˇùŸ-ma u4-mu and its
translation as “the day went dark” presume
OB eˇûm exhibits a vowel class III-u; the
phrase should be compared with i-DI u4-mu
in three first-millennium copies of Ludlul
II 119, understood as ‹ˇi ›mu by Landsberger and others (see especially Cooper 1975).
Unless the phrase in the present line is plural, i.e. ‹ˇûma ›m› (which seems improbable), this rare verb evidently exhibits both
/u/ and /i/ in final position. It might thus
be added to those that switched vowel
classes over time (cf. GAG §87bd), but this
cannot be confirmed without further attestations.
54–55. New readings reveal that this couplet
as a whole is a functional counterpart of ll.
25–26: m⁄lak ›makkal Íina u Íal⁄Íim / Íunu
iˇÓû ana m⁄t-Ibla. In the later texts the variation that this tablet shows to have
informed the Old Babylonian account of
the journey was suppressed in favor of a
standardized passage of repetition in which
each stage of the journey is introduced by
the same couplet (SB IV 4 // 37 // [82] //
123–24): m⁄lak arÓi u Íapatti ina ÍalÍi ›m‹ /
iˇÓû ana Íadî Labn⁄nu. On the textual
“homogenization” of this part of the poem
see further George 2003: 45–47. For
°amran see the introduction.
56. The first word can also be read [ma-a]t
“land.”
58. The complete decipherment of the context shows that °uwawa, not Enkidu,
must be the subject of the double couplet
set down in ll. 58–60, and the reading of
the verb has been revised to suit this new
understanding. The second sign, formerly
read [d]e?, is now read DU = ˇù (cf. the
78.
79.
80.
82.
83.
84.
shape of DU in ll. 39 and 81). A spelling iˇù-Íu- for iˇˇulÍu- does not presuppose an
error, for /l/ can assimilate to a following
/Í/ already in Old Babylonian, as it can later: thus a-ka-Íu for akalÍu “his bread” in a
bilingual proverb from Nippur (Lambert
1960: 273 l. 2; GAG §34c Ergänzungen);
and na-aÍ-Íi for nalÍim “dew” in a love lyric
from the reign of AbieÍuÓ (Lambert 1966:
50 l. 11).
Preposed ul signifies a rhetorical question:
see for comparison SB GilgameÍ III 102–6
and IV 213 and add this instance to the discussion in George 2003: 814. For libbum
naÍûm in GilgameÍ see the elders’ caution
libbaka naÍ‹ka “your enthusiasm carries you
away” in the Yale tablet and later versions
of the same episode (OB III 191 // Ass MS
y2 obv. 9' // SB II 289).
If ÍamÍum is correctly restored as the damaged first word, this line is informed by the
theme of fiamaÍ as GilgameÍ’s guide and
guardian.
The line contains an exception to the rule
that GilgameÍ and Enkidu address each
other only as ibr‹.
The emendation to in‹l› is demanded
chiefly because iskip› in‹l› is a narrative
variant of the imperative phrase sakip n‹l
(l. 1).
This line would perhaps better read
idkâÍÍ›ma ÍuttaÍu (acc.) ipaÍÍarÍum “he (G.)
roused him (E.) in order to reveal his
dream to him.” As the text stands, ÍittaÍu
seems best parsed as nominative, with Íittum dekûm an idiom describing the interruption of sleep by the nightmare.
The discovery of a ruling before this line
reveals it to be a genuine catch-line, as suspected on structural grounds in George
2003: 227.
Fragments of GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
No. 6
3263
Pls. 17–18
The script of what remains of this tablet is
very similar to that of MS 3025 (Text No. 5),
which reports the first two of GilgameÍ’s
dreams, and the two tablets were physically
similar in at least one other respect (see below
on Fragment 6). It seems probable that MS
3263 is what is left of a companion piece to MS
3025, all the more so because the abbreviation
d
en otherwise appears only in MS 3025.
Because MS 3025 holds the first two dreams, it
further seems likely that MS 3263 is its sequel,
and began with the third dream. Its incipit is
thus preserved as the catch-line of MS 3025: ibr‹
⁄tamar ÍaluÍtam “My friend, I have seen a third
(dream).”
For purposes of easy reference in GilgameÍ
studies, the two previously identified pieces of
the Babylonian GilgameÍ in the collection have
been given the sigla OB Gilg Schøyen1 (MS
2652/5) and OB Gilg Schøyen2 (MS 3025).
The twenty fragments collected under the
number MS 3263/1–8 and 10–21 can be
referred to as OB Gilg Schøyen3. Eight pieces
are edited here: Fragments 1–7 and 11. As can
be seen from the photograph on pl. 17, the
remaining twelve fragments are too small or
damaged for meaningful transliteration.
The number MS 3263 was given to twentyone fragments, mostly very small, that came to
light when MS 3299 (a mathematical problem
text) was baked and its left-hand corners disintegrated in the kiln. Only one of the fragments,
now 3263/9, could be rejoined to 3299 and,
upon close inspection, the others turned out
not to belong to that tablet at all, but to be old
material joined to it in modern times with the
aid of additional clay and mud. The joiner’s
purpose was certainly to make MS 3299 appear
complete.
While some of the fragments are so small as
to hold only a few wedges, others are large
enough to allow the reading of words and parts
of words. Three include names preceded by
divine determinatives, dGIfi and den. These are
abbreviated spellings of the heroes GilgameÍ
and Enkidu. Another four fragments hold
phrases that can be restored as typical of the
poems of GilgameÍ, in particular the dream
episodes that punctuate the journey to the
Cedar Forest. The fragments resemble one
another in script, clay, and general appearance.
On that account it is assumed that all twenty
fragments that do not belong to MS 3299 are
the extant remains of what was once a single
tablet of GilgameÍ.
Fragment 1
MS 3263/1 is the largest fragment. It is from
near the right edge and has suffered from being
cut down to shape. It contains parts of twelve
lines from GilgameÍ’s description of one of his
dreams. This is almost certainly a variant version
of the fourth dream, an account of which is also
preserved on an excerpt tablet from Nippur
(OB Gilg Nippur, ed. George 2003: 241–46).
According to that excerpt, the fourth dream was
populated by a female Anzû-bird and a strangelooking man. The bird’s “radiance” (Íalummassa) terrified GilgameÍ but the man saved him.
The present telling refers to Íalummatum as a
probable attribute of a feminine character (l. 3'),
37
38
Babylonian Literary Texts
and to a strange-looking man (l. 6'), where the
phrase matches OB Gilg Nippur. The symbolism conforms to the usual pattern of the dreams:
the threatening Anzû-bird represents °uwawa,
whom GilgameÍ shall overcome with the aid of
a strange eˇlum. As Enkidu reveals in OB Gilg
Nippur rev. 6', this latter, anthropomorphic figure represents the sun-god fiamaÍ. In the present
account the arrival of the eˇlum duly heralds the
rays of the sun (ll. 8', 10'), but in language that is
1'
. . . r]i-ig-mi-Í[a x x x x]
2'
. . . ]x-ni-a-tim [x x x]
3'
. . . a]p-ra-at Ía-lum-m[a-tam]
4'
...]
i-na zu-um-[ri-Ía]
5'
. . . ]x-‚eŸ-ma it-ti Íu-[x x]
6' . . . iÍ-te-e]n eˇ-lum Ía-ni b[i-ni-tam]
7' . . . i]ˇ-Óe-a-am a-na ma-a[Ó?-ri-ia]
8'
. . . ]x-tum it-ta-‰i Ía-[am-Íum?]
9'
. . . i-n]a wa-ar-ki-Íu it-[x x]
10'
. . . ]x-ma-ta nu-u[r dÍamaÍ(utu)?]
11'
. . . ]x-tam i-we Í[a x x]
12'
. . . ]x ‚ib?Ÿ [x x]
1'. The rigmum is presumably the screech of
the Anzû-bird, and a premonition of the
moment when the heroes hear °uwawa’s
terrible din in the distance and grow afraid
(e.g. SB Gilg IV 202).
6'. Cf. in the fourth dream as preserved on
OB Gilg Nippur 15: eˇlu[mma?] Íani
bin‹tam.
reminiscent of the second dream in OB Gilg
Schøyen2.
The sign ta is written in such a way that the
top horizontal wedge is completely obscured by
the two upright wedges. This idiosyncrasy
sometimes also occurs on MS 3025 (Text No.
5), and is a particularly conspicuous reason for
thinking that the two tablets were written by the
same individual.
. . . at] its cry [ . . . ]
. . . ] . . . [ . . . ,]
. . . ] it was crowned with radiance.
. . . ] in [its] body,
. . . ] . . . with [ . . . ]
. . . there] was a man, strange of form,
. . . he] drew near to [my] presence(?).
. . . ] . . . the [sun(?)] went forth,
. . . ] after him . . .
. . . ] . . . the light [of the sun(?),]
. . . ] turned into . . .
8'. This line can be restored after a line of the
second dream, as reported in OB Gilg
Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 42: ekletum ittawir
fiamaÍ itta‰i. If so, the members of each
clause are transposed and a penultimate
stress is achieved: [ittawir ekl]etum itta‰i
Íá[mÍum].
Fragment 2
MS 3263/2 is a fragment from the left edge. It
contains lines that, when complete, gave an
account of Enkidu’s explanation of one of GilgameÍ’s dreams. The key phrase is sebet melemm›
in l. 4', which obviously alludes to °uwawa’s
supernatural protection, the seven cloaks
bestowed on him by Enlil. In other versions of
the poem these are referred to by three different
expressions: (a) sebe pulÓi’⁄tim “seven terrors”
(OB Gilg III 137) // pulÓête (Assyrian Gilg MS
y obv. 15') // pulÓâti (SB Gilg II 219b etc.); (b)
melemm›, seven in number and likened to
°uwawa’s chicks (OB Gilg Ishchali 12'–13');
and (c) namrirr› Ía ilim “the god’s radiant auras”
(OB Gilg Nippur 3) in Enkidu’s explanation of
GilgameÍ’s third dream. The last is the context
closest to the present one but there is no other
similarity in the phrasing of the two passages.
Fragments of
GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
1'
2'
3'
[x] x x[ . . .
x x i-du-[ . . .
d
en Íu-na-[tam ipaÍÍar izzakkaram
ana dGIfi]
4' 7 me-lem-m[u . . .
5' i-im-mar-k[a . . .
6' e-le-nu ‚dŸ[ÍamaÍ? . . .
7' ù Ía t[a-mu-ru-(Íu) . . .
8' i-na x[ . . .
left edge: traces of two erased signs
39
Enkidu [explained the] dream,
[saying to GilgameÍ:]
“The seven radiant sheens [ . . .
he will see you [ . . .
Above, the [sun-god(?) . . .
and he whom you [saw . . .
In [ . . .
the dream with either the sun-god fiamaÍ
(OB Gilg Schøyen2 = Text No. 5: 21: u Ía
t⁄mur›Íu, OB Gilg Nippur rev. 6', OB Gilg
Harmal1 12), or GilgameÍ’s father, Lugalbanda (OB Gilg Nippur 7), or an unidentified person (SB Gilg IV Y3 v 3', broken).
3'. The line is restored after OB Gilg
Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 13 // 44, which has
Íuttam instead of the literary trisyllable.
7'. The phrase Ía t⁄muru is standard in the
dream explanations of GilgameÍ. It accompanies the identification of some figure in
Fragment 3
Another fragment from the left edge, MS 3263/
3, contains traces of a dream explanation, including Enkidu’s usual reassurance that the nightmare GilgameÍ has just related was, in fact, a
1'
2'
3'
4'
5'
6'
7'
x[ . . .
da[m-qa-at Íunatka . . .
d
GIfi [pâÍu ‹puÍamma . . .
al-[kam ib-ri . . .
x[ . . .
x[ . . .
x[ . . .
2'. Cf. OB Gilg Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 52:
dam[q⁄ Í]un⁄t›ka; MB Gilg Boè2 i 2'–3':
[damqat?] Íuttaka; SB Gilg IV 28 // 109 //
155: damqat Íunatka.
good omen. Other such statements conclude his
explanations and are followed by narrative, and
that is probably also the case here.
“[Your dream is] favorable [ . . . . . . ]”
GilgameÍ [opened his mouth, saying to Enkidu:]
“Come, [my friend, . . .
Babylonian Literary Texts
40
Fragment 4
MS 3263/4 is the bottom left-hand corner of a
tablet inscribed on obverse, edge, and reverse.
1'
2'
edge
3'
4'
5'
6'
rev.
7'
8'
Enkidu puts in an appearance in l. 2' but more
than that I cannot say.
x x[ . . .
en x[ . . .
d
x l[u . . .
x Óu x[ . . .
na-Íu-ú x[ . . .
tu-u[r?- . . .
za x[ . . .
ki-ma [ . . .
Fragment 5
MS 3263/5 is a piece from the turn from obverse
to bottom edge, or reverse to top edge. The
presence of damqat “it is favorable” (l. 3') sug1'
2'
3'
edge
4'
gests that the context is the end of a dream
explanation (see above, Fragment 3).
. . . ]x x x [ . . .
. . . ]x-ra-am i-x[ . . .
. . . ] dam-qá-a[t . . .
. . .]x-Íu
[...
Fragment 6
MS 3263/6 is a fragment from the right edge
that preserves the last sign of a single line, ]-al.
The vacant spaces above and below this sign
show that the scribe did not align the ends of
every line with the right-hand edge of the tab-
let. This is also the case on OB Schøyen2 (Text
No. 5) and another reason for identifying the
two tablets as companion pieces.
Fragments of
GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest
41
Fragment 7
MS 3263/7 is piece from the middle inscribed
with parts of four lines. If l. 2' is correctly restored, the context is a conversation between
1'
2'
3'
4'
...
] ib? [x x]
[it-bé i-ta-w]a-am a-na ‚ibŸ-[ri-Íu]
...
]x-ia [0?]
...
]x ‚i-na Íe-riŸ-[im]
GilgameÍ and Enkidu in which the former
begins to tell the latter of his nightmares.
[He arose to] talk with [his] friend:
“ . . . ] my [ . . . ]
. . . ] in the morning.”
2'. Restored from OB Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 3.
Fragment 11
MS 3263/11 is a piece from the left edge that
contains the beginnings of two lines, the first of
which comprises the word ib-r[i] “my friend.”
This word is typical of the poem of GilgameÍ
and clearly marks the line as the opening of a
speech of GilgameÍ to Enkidu or vice versa.
A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida
No. 7
2000
This short text of twenty-four lines, inscribed
in an ornate Old Babylonian hand on a tablet of
one column per side, is a unique Akkadian
composition. Formally it is a song in praise of
the god NingiÍzida (under his abbreviated
name of Ninzida), as the incipit indicates:
luzmur “I will sing.” Declarations in the voice
of the singer occur in several other Babylonian
literary works and are stylistic features that
clearly derive from or emulate oral performance. In addition to luzmur, other parts of
zam⁄ru occur, e.g. azammar and azammur “I am
singing,” luzzammur “I will keep singing,” and
zumr⁄ “sing you!” In narrative poetry these
declarations have been identified as one of two
opening strategies by which the singer attracted
his audience’s attention (“type A” in Wilcke
1977). Notable among the compositions that
use parts of zam⁄ru in this way are the widely
read poems of AguÍaya (ii 5) and Anzû (SB I 2),
and a less well-known composition about
B¤let-il‹ and her son, Lillu (CT 15 1–2, ed.
Römer 1967). In the field of praise and lyric
poetry the verb is deployed in the beautiful Old
Babylonian hymn to IÍtar published by F.
Thureau-Dangin (1925), a fragmentary hymn
to Mama recently published by M. Krebernik
(2003–4), and songs and ballads unknown
except for their incipits (KAR 158 i 7, 20, 22,
30, ii 6, 33, vi 13, 27 etc.; see Black 1983, Limet
1996, Groneberg 2003). Like the texts about
AguÍaya, Anzû, and B¤let-il‹, the present piece
is not simply praise poetry, for it too tells a
myth. Unlike them it runs to only ten couplets
of poetry, too short to be classified generically
with the great narrative poems of Babylonian
literature.
Pls. 19–21
Content
In the first three couplets the poet visualizes his
subject on a journey by river boat, accompanied by what seem to be his symbols, and with
the towns Enegi and GiÍbanda as his destination (ll. 1–8). The central couplet of the three
likens Ninzida to a fish swimming upstream
against the current. Since these places lay on
the lower Euphrates clearly he is envisaged as
approaching Enegi and GiÍbanda from somewhere downstream on the same river. The
poem thus introduces the motif of the god’s
journey, so productive in Sumerian literature
(see Sjöberg 1957–71).
The following two couplets make the claim
that Ninzida feeds the great gods of Babylonia:
Anum of heaven, Enlil of Nippur, fiamaÍ of
Sippar, Adad of E-ugalgal in Karkara, and IÍtar
of E-anna in Uruk (9–12). After Anum and
Enlil one expects Ea-Enki of Eridu, for together they form the conventional ruling triad; but
he is ignored in favor of more junior deities.
The next lines invoke Ninzida as controller of
the harvest and bringer of abundance, and then
relate his connections with two small towns of
central Babylonia, one of which (Sabum) is
known to have contained a temple of NingiÍzida, and with the cult-center of the sun-god
fiamaÍ (13–16). The top of the reverse is spoiled
by damage; only E-duranki, the sanctuary of
IÍtar at Nippur, emerges for certain from the
gloom, and perhaps also E-gidda, the temple of
NingiÍzida’s father Ninazu in Enegi (17–19).
The following lines appear to assert that a certain Nirda, here understood to be NingiÍzida’s
mother, (Nin)-girida, was responsible for naming the cult-center of the moon-god Sîn (20–
21); but this understanding rests on a division of
lines that may not be correct. The song closes,
42
A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida
more certainly, by stating that someone (surely
NingiÍzida rather than his mother) has established NingiÍzida’s house in Enegi (22–24).
Aspects of Language and Writing
Traces of an erased line on the lower reverse
suggest that the tablet had already been used
when the text was inscribed on it. The style of
writing, with its highly elaborate sign-forms,
may speak for a date of writing early in the second millennium. Other features do not contradict such a view, but it was always possible for
later scribes to emulate older script.
There is one example of an attached preposition: i-zi-pí-ri (l. 10). Geminated consonants
are usually written defectively: ma-sa-a-am (2),
ma-ku-ur (3), ku-pí-i (5), a-la-lu-ú (8), ù-Ía-ka-al
(9, 11, 12), a-ia-ki-im (12, 15), i-bi (21), i-ta-di
(22), Íu-ba-a-su-ú (22), but note ap-pa-ri-i-im (4),
Óe-gál-li (13) if correctly deciphered, and aÍ-Íum
(14, 15, 16). The same holds true for proper
nouns (see below). Mimation is present on all
but five occasions. In two of them the case ending is marked instead with a repetition of the
case vowel: ku-pí-i (5), ra-aÍ-bi-i (16); the other
exceptions are the genitive toponym zi-pí-ri
(10), the common noun Óe-gál-li (13), and the
dative suffix on ra-ak-bu-Íu (6). Other spellings
with plene writings of morphologically short
vowels occur: i-la-a-am (2, 18), ap-pa-ri-i-im (4),
-Íu-ú-um (5, 7), uru-a-am (19) for ⁄lam, Íu-ba-asu-ú (22), bi-ta-a-am (23), probably also sa-ba-aam (14). The syllable /pi/ is consistently written
pí, in archival texts a north Babylonian convention. Syllables opened with /s/ are written with
the signs sa and su, which is also a north Baby-
43
lonian convention. For this reason the toponym
written zi-pí-ri is not read sí-pí-ri.
The most remarkable orthographic feature
of the text is the use of phonetic spellings of
many proper nouns. They can be tabulated as
follows:
a-du-ur-an-k[i?] (17)
é.dur.an.ki?
a-ia-ki-im (12, 15)
é.an.na (Ayakkum)
a-na-am (9)
Anum
e-ba-pa-ri-im (16)
é.babbar-im
e-gu-ta (19)
é.gíd.da?
e-iu-ga-gal (11)
é.u4.gal.gal
e-mi-gi (7), e-ne-IG (23) Enegi
né-eÍ-pa-an-da (8)
GiÍbanda
ni-pu-ru (10, 14)
Nippuru < Nibru
(Nippur)
d
ni-ir-da (21)
(nin).giri16.da?
sa-ba-a-am (14)
Sabum, acc.
zi-pí-ri (10)
Zippirum,
gen. (Sippar)
[ú-ri]-im (20)
Urim (Ur)
Some of these spellings are discussed individually in the textual notes below.
The orthography suggests that the tablet
was probably written in north Babylonia. By
contrast, the composition’s geographical context is the far south, and it surely originated
there. It is fully possible that a song to NingiÍzida composed in the south was known in the
north and there set down in local spelling. But
it is also the case that the distribution of “northern” v. “southern” orthography in manuscripts
of literary texts is not properly understood.
Spellings identified in such terms may not be
indicative exclusively of geographical origin.
44
Babylonian Literary Texts
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
3
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
rev.
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
lu-uz4-mu-ur dnin-zi-da 2 ma-sa-a-am i-la-a-am qar-da-am
ra-ki-ib ma-ku-ur uq-ni-i-im 4 qé-re-eb ap-pa-ri-i-im
ra-ak-ba-Íu-ú-um a-na ku-pí-i / pa-aÍ-tum
a-na nu-ni-im ma-Ói-ri-im di-du ra-ak-bu-Íu
na-du-Íu-ú-um ka-ru i-na e-mi-gi
i-na né-eÍ-pa-an-da a-la-lu-ú Ía-‚akŸ-nu-Íu-um
ù-Ía-ka-al a-na-am i-na Ía-mé-e
d
en-líl i-na ni-pu-ru d‚ÍamaÍ(utu) i-ziŸ-pí-ri
i-na e-iu-ga-ga[l] ‚dŸadad(iÍkur) ú-Ía-ka-al
i-na a-ia-ki-im ú-Ía-ka-al iÍ8-tár
na-du-ú ma-aÍ-ka-nu-ú-Íu karpat(dug!) Óe-gál-li
aÍ-Íum ni-pu-ru i-ra-a-am sa-ba-a-am
aÍ-Íum a-‚iaŸ-ki-im ú-Íe-pí-iÍ / pí-na-ra-ti-im
aÍ-Íum e-ba-pa-ri-‚imŸ b‹t(é) dÍamaÍ(utu) / ‚raŸ-aÍ-bi-i
i-na a-du-ur-‚anŸ-k[i x x x]
x am? x x i-la-a-a[m x ]x (x) x
‚in?-né?Ÿ-pu?-[uÍ?]-Íum e-gu-ta ⁄lam(uru)a-a[m?]
[ú-ri]-im mu-Ía-ab dsîn(suen)
‚ni-irŸ-da i-bi i-bi ni-ir-da
i-ta-di! Íu-ba-a-su-ú
e-‚neŸ-IG bi-ta-{ras.}-a-am
Ía la-le-e-Íu i-pu-úÍ
NOTES
1. The spelling dnin-zi-da is found also in a
letter from Kisurra (Kienast 1978 no. 159:
19, quoted below, note on ll. 5–6) and in
an unpublished bilingual hymn to Utu
now in the Schøyen Collection (MS 2243/
1 iv 27–28): dnin.giÍ.zi.da sag.níta // dninzi-da Ía-ka-na-ku. These spellings are evidence for an abbreviated form of the name
normally spelled dnin.giÍ.zi.da, Emesal
d
ù.mu.un.mu.zi.da etc., that was especially
current in Akkadian contexts. Note, however, that at Mari phonetic spellings in
Akkadian contexts retain the four syllables
of the Sumerian name: dni-ki-si-da, dni-gi-sida, dnin-nigi-si-da (Durand 1987); later
sources from Bogazköy,
Assyria, and Baby©
lonia concur (Wiggermann 2000: 368).
2. The epithet of this line occurs also in a
composition known only by its incipit
(KAR 158 i 40: [ . . . ] i-gi-gi man-sa-a
ila(dingir) qar-da). Perhaps the phrase was a
stock item in Babylonian hymnology.
5–6. The present interpretation of this obscure
couplet rests on three assumptions: (1) that
the lines exhibit a pattern ABC BCA,
where A = verb + indirect object
expressed as pronoun, B = indirect object,
C = subject, (2) that, to achieve grammatical agreement between subject and predicate in l. 5, either pa-aÍ-tum is erroneous for
pl. p⁄Í⁄tum or ra-ak-ba-Íu-ú-um is a mistake
for rakbassum, and (3) that the n›nim
m⁄Óirim, lit. “fish going against (the current),” is NingiÍzida himself, travelling
upriver on his barge (m⁄Óirum in this meaning is well known in the description of
boats, m⁄Óirtum). For ku-bi-i to yield a suitable parallel to n›num it must be kuppûm,
A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida
1
3
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
21
22
24
45
TRANSLATION
I will sing praise of Ninzida, leader, valiant god,
who rides a barge of lapis lazuli 4 through the marshlands!
Riding for him, for the eel(?), is the p⁄Ítum-symbol;
for the fish swimming upstream skirts(?) are riding for him.
The landing stages are ready for him in Enegi,
work songs are provided for him in GiÍbanda.
He feeds Anum in the heavens,
Enlil in Nippur, fiamaÍ in Sippar.
In E-ugalgal he feeds Adad,
in Eanna IÍtar he feeds.
Ready are his threshing-floors, (and) jars of plenty!
On Nippur’s account he loves Sabum;
on Eanna’s account he had Pî-n⁄r⁄tim built,
on Ebabbar’s account, the house of awesome fiamaÍ.
From E-dur-[anki . . . ,]
. . . god . . . , 19 E-gidda was built(?) for him.
The city 20 Ur, the residence of Sîn,
Girda named (it), Girda named (it).
He established his abode, 23 Enegi(!),
he made his luxuriant 23 home.
2
which designates some kind of fish, perhaps an eel or goby (Civil 1961: 170–71,
Landsberger 1962: 87–88). It is a wellknown part of the life-cycle of eels that
they swim up rivers as juveniles, and return
to the sea to spawn in old age.
The p⁄Ítum is a known symbol of NingiÍzida. In an Old Babylonian letter from
Kisurra such a thing represents Nin(giÍ)zida in lending his authority to the surveying of a date-palm plantation (Kienast 1978
no. 159, 19: pa-áÍ-tum Ía dnin-zi-da). In an
omen from fiumma ⁄lu XV the portent of a
puddle of water that resembles somebody
bearing a p⁄Ítum is explained as signifying
the presence of NingiÍzida (CT 38 21: 12,
ed. Freedman 1998: 231–32: manz⁄z(ki.
gub) dnin-giÍ-zi-da). The word p⁄Ítum has
usually been rendered “axe” or “double-
headed axe” (e.g. CAD P s.v.). However,
in the light of ritual texts that describe
baÍmu-snakes as bearing these objects, Frans
Wiggermann has noted that the p⁄Ítum
should be the crescent-shaped weapon so
depicted in art (1992: 86), and that NingiÍzida is represented holding such a weapon on a cylinder seal of Ur III date (2000:
371). He consequently translates p⁄Ítum as
“sickle-sword.” Parallel with p⁄Ítum in the
present text are women’s undergarments
(d‹d›), evidently the subject of rakb›Íu in l.
6. How these are symbolic of NingiÍzida is
not understood.
7. E-me-gi is a phonetic rendering of Enegi,
the cult-center of Ninazu and therefore
NingiÍzida’s birthplace. The close association of Enegi and its temple, é.gíd.da, with
GiÍbanda (l. 8) is found in other texts, in
46
Babylonian Literary Texts
Sumerian literature (Temple Hymns nos.
14 and 15, ed. Sjöberg and Bergmann
1969: 27–29; Lamentation over Sumer and
Ur 206–11, ed. Michalowski 1989: 48–49;
PRAK II D 41 i 23–26 // VAS II 26 rev. ii
27?–30, see Carroué 1993: 47) and in an
Old Babylonian temple list (MSL XI 142
viii 41–42). The pairing of the two cultcenters reflects their geographical propinquity: both lay between Uruk and Ur, perhaps only a few kilometers apart (Frayne
1988: 349; Carroué 1993: 63). Enegi was
the moon-god’s first port of call on his
journey by barge from Ur to Nippur (Nanna-Suen’s Journey 198–208, ed. Ferrara
1973).
8. In the pronunciation of the first letter of
GiÍbanda, the present spelling of NingiÍzida’s cult-center recalls the spelling niÍ.
bàn.daki attested in the Ur III period (refs.
collected by Wiggermann 2000: 372). For
initial /∞/ realized as /n/ in the Old Babylonian period see Durand 1987 (at Mari)
and below, on l. 21; the unvoicing of /b/
is expected in an Akkadian context.
10. Another Old Babylonian example of this
spelling of the toponym Nippur (< Nibru)
occurs in AbB V 156, 5: i-na ni-pu-ru. Other evidence for the trisyllabic form of the
name has been assembled by Jacob Klein
(2001: 533). On the vocalization of Sippar
as Sippir in the Old Babylonian period see
the evidence collected by Brigitte Groneberg (1980a: 205, 307). This evidence
reveals that Old Babylonian spellings with
initial si occur on tablets found at Kisurra
and Tell ed-D¤r, but variant spellings with
initial zi appear on tablets from Mari, Tell
ed-D¤r, and Mananâ. These latter spellings, together with the present zi-pí-ri,
speak for the existence of an archaic form
Zippir (cf. Sum. Zimbir) alongside Sippir. A
spelling with a case ending, also genitive,
occurs at Kisurra (Kienast 1978 no. 30: 4:
si-pí-ri-im).
11–12. This spelling of é.u4.gal.gal reports a
glide /y/ between é and u4. The same is
seen in the better-known ayakkum (< é-
an.ak+um), Akkadian for Eanna, IÍtar’s
temple in Uruk, on which see most recently Beaulieu 2002. Both renderings support
the proposal that the true pronunciation of
Sum. é was hay (see most recently Krispijn
2001: 256 n. 39).
13. The sign here read dug(BI™A)! can be more
exactly described as GA™X. In defense of
the emendation one may cite an Old Babylonian letter that demonstrates a practical
connection between maÍkanum and karpatum (TCL XVII 2: 18–19): Ía-pi-il-ti Íe-e-em
i-na ma-aÍ-ka-an! ka-ar-pa-a-tim aÍ-ta-pa-aak “I have stored the balance of the barley
in jars at the threshing-floor.” The karpatum was evidently the vessel in which grain
was transported from threshing-floor to
granary. In the present context, describing
how NingiÍzida feeds the gods, the collocation of his threshing-floors and brimming karpat Óengalli “jars of plenty” is
eminently fitting.
14–15. In these parallel lines Sabum and Pîn⁄r⁄tim are toponyms. Given the local
horizons of this text, Sabum cannot be the
town of this name in Elam or ParaÓÍum
that was conquered by Sargon of Akkade.
In the Old Babylonian period a town
Sabum appears in year-names, first when
captured by Sumuel of Larsa (year 10,
Sigrist 1990: 18) and then as subjugated by
Samsuiluna of Babylon (year 13, Horsnell
1999 II 198). The former date associates
Sabum with towns or villages along the
Euphrates; the latter pairs it with the central Babylonian city of Kisurra. In addition,
Sîn-iddinam of Larsa claims in his great
barrel inscription to have fortified the town
(MS 5000 iii 5, courtesy Konrad Volk).
Old Babylonian evidence for central Babylonian Sabum has been collected by Marten Stol (2007) and includes a letter from
the correspondence of fiamaÍ-Ó⁄zir that
mentions a clerk and temple of NingiÍzida
in Sabum (AbB IV 139: 18–19: Íà.tam Ía
d
nin-giÍ-zi-da Ía sa-bu-umki; 21: b‹t dnin-giÍzi-da). Pî-n⁄r⁄tim is a lesser-known place
attested in documents from the same peri-
A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida
ods and probably situated also on the
Euphrates in central or northern Babylonia
(Streck 2005). It was sacked and its walls
destroyed by Sumuel of Larsa, as reported
in his eighth and ninth year-names (Sigrist
1990: 17), and captured again by later kings
of the same dynasty.
The two towns Sabum and Pî-n⁄r⁄tim
are associated in the present text with Nippur and Uruk (Eanna), respectively. A link
between Sabum and Nippur may be seen
in a text from a later period. In explaining
the divine name Nissaba as “Mistress of
Saba/um” W. G. Lambert understands a
pair of lines in an unpublished duplicate of
the aluzinnu text II R 60 to give the epithet
be-let sa-a-biki “lady of Sabu” to Nissaba’s
daughter Ninlil (Lambert 2003). Ninlil
moved to Nippur after her marriage to
Enlil. What Pî-n⁄r⁄tim has to do with Eanna, and with NingiÍzida, is unclear, however.
17. If the preserved signs are correctly understood as the temple name E-dur-anki
(IÍtar’s temple at Nippur, George 1993a: 80
no. 218), here is further evidence for the
pronunciation of Sumerian é “house” with
vowel /a/ (see above, on ll. 11–12).
47
19. The word e-gu-ta has the look of a phonetically written temple name, perhaps one
that begins é-kù-... However, in this context I am more tempted to understand it as
a spelling of é.gíd.da, Ninazu’s temple at
Enegi and NingiÍzida’s paternal home
(George 1993a: 94 no. 392). If correctly
read, innepuÍÍum Eg›ta can have no connection with ⁄lam / [Uri]m and must be a
half line that terminates a couplet written
over three lines of tablet (17–19a).
21. The spelling ni-ir-da seems to represent the
goddess Ningirida, the wife of Ninazu and
mother of NingiÍzida, on whose name see
Lambert 1990a: 294; initial ni stands for /∞i/, as
earlier in né-eÍ-pa-an-da = GiÍbanda (l. 8).
Nirda represents an abbreviated form of
her name that is routine in the mid-third
millennium (Krebernik 2000). It is also
found in a Middle Assyrian copy of An V
241: dgìrir.da, which, without knowledge
of this new OB spelling, Lambert dismissed
as an error. Doubt remains over the equation of ni-ir-da and (Nin)-girida, however,
because she seems to have no special connection with Ur and Sîn.
23. The erased sign was am.
COMMENTARY
Son of Ninazu and consort of GeÍtinanna (also
Ninazimua), NingiÍzida is the subject of at least
four Sumerian songs of praise (NingiÍzida A–
D),1 and of two narrative poems that relate the
myth of his descent to the Netherworld, one in
Sumerian and one in Akkadian.2 Another mythological narrative about NingiÍzida and Ninazi-
1
2
NingiÍzida A = TCL XV 25, ed. van Dijk
1960: 81–107; NingiÍzida B–C ed. Sjöberg
1975b; ETCSL 4.19.1–4.
Respectively VAS II 35 // UET VI 23 and
dupls., ed. Jacobsen and Alster 2000 (ETCSL
1.7.3), and UET VI 395, ed. Lambert 1990a.
mua is less well preserved.3 The Akkadian text
notes how his tears are red, an allusion to the
wine that was produced by the vine (giÍ.zi.da) of
his name (Lambert 1990b). The character of the
god is otherwise chthonic, like his father, for he
is routinely identified as the “chamberlain”
(gu.za.lá) of the Netherworld. By virtue of a
syncretism with the shepherd-god Dumuzi and
3
TMH NF 4 4 // UET VI 27, on which see
Kramer and Bernhardt 1967: 11–12 “Nr. 4
(HS 1520). ‘Die Sorgen von NingiÍzida und
Ninazimua’,” and Jacobsen and Alster 2000:
317–18.
48
Babylonian Literary Texts
other gods that die and rise, NingiÍzida also
came to be associated with sheep-rearing.1 In
the present text his role is different again, for he
is invoked as a wealthy farmer who from his full
granaries provides food for the most senior deities of the pantheon. Further references to his
agrarian expertise are provided by the incipit of
NingiÍzida A, which invokes the god as en
Íà.túm a.gàr “lord of meadow and field” (van
Dijk 1960: 81 l. 1), and lines of NingiÍzida C
that acknowledge his part in bringing the annual flood and making crops grow:
[íd.da a.e]Ítub Óé.e.da.gál den.ki Óé.e.da.Óúl
[a.Íà.ga Í]e.gu.nu Óé.e.da.gál x[ x x
Óé.e].da.Óúl
Sjöberg 1975b: 306 ll. 15'–16'
Through you the carp-[waters] rise [in the
rivers], so Enki rejoices in you,
through you cereal crops grow [in the fields,
so Nissaba(?)] rejoices in you!
The question arises as to what might be the
contexts of NingiÍzida’s journey as described in
the present text, mythological and ritual. In the
Sumerian poem of NingiÍzida’s descent to the
Netherworld he also rides on a ma.gur8-boat
(Akk. makurrum); but the situation here is quite
different. Since the text edited here begins with
NingiÍzida riding the boat and ends with him
establishing his dwelling place, one of its functions is to relate the myth of this god’s adoption
of a cult-center as his home. The adoption of a
home by a god is a highly productive mytheme
in ancient Mesopotamia, where it was believed
that the land was apportioned among the gods
in early times, each taking a city in which to
reside. In this book the Song of Bazi is another
prime example of a story that relates how a god
established his home (Text No. 1). The myth
embedded in the poem of Bilgames and the
Netherworld is a closer parallel, however, for it
combines such a myth with a divine journey by
1
On the character and attributes of NingiÍzida
see in detail Jacobsen and Alster 2000: 315–
18, Lambert 1990a, Wiggermann 1997: 39–
42, id. 2000.
boat. In that case the god is Enki, who travels by
water to take up residence in his cosmic
domain, the Abzu. If this text tells the story of
NingiÍzida’s first arrival in Enegi and GiÍbanda
and his adoption of them as his home, then his
mythical journey upstream would have started
at Ea’s cult-center in Eridu, for according to
one of the Sumerian hymns it was in Ea’s Abzu
that NingiÍzida grew up (NingiÍzida A 6: abzu.a
bùlug.gá).
A myth that tells how NingiÍzida established
his home specifically in Enegi raises a problem.
NingiÍzida’s cult-center was GiÍbanda; nearby
Enegi belonged to his father, Ninazu. The
present text associates the younger deity with
both places (ll. 7–8), but the climax, if interpreted correctly, refers to his settling in Enegi and its
temple, E-gidda (ll. 22–24). According to literary tradition the two towns Enegi and GiÍbanda
succumbed as the Ur III state collapsed (Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur
206–13). This may be a reliable view historically, for neither place appears in archival records
from the ensuing periods. The prebends of the
“chapel of Ninazu in E-gidda” were still
administered in the Old Babylonian period
(YOS XI 64 rev.), but this may have been a cult
in exile. In the Old Babylonian period the cults
of Ninazu and NingiÍzida are best attested at Ur,
where a temple called é.níg.gi.na was maintained for NingiÍzida by the kings of Larsa
(George 1993a: 132 no. 877; Richter 1999a:
429–34). Probably both cults moved to Ur, the
nearest large town, when GiÍbanda and Enegi
were abandoned.
The history of NingiÍzida’s cult allows a
proposal for the date and cultic context of the
text published here. An Old Babylonian poem
in praise of NingiÍzida is unlikely to have been
composed to celebrate his occupation of a cultcenter in the Ur III period, when Sumerian was
overwhelmingly the language of formal religious and literary expression. It must be a composition of the immediately succeeding period,
when literature in Akkadian begins to become
more evident. The poem’s statement that NingiÍzida set up home in his father’s town Enegi,
not in his own cult-center, GiÍbanda, shows a
lack of fine distinction that suits a period when
A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida
these places were defunct: again, the post-Ur III
period.
If GiÍbanda and Enegi were defunct when
the song was composed, the myth that it tells
had a ritual function other than the celebration
of NingiÍzida’s arrival in his cult-center. The
cultic background is evidently a harvest festival:
the threshing-floors are in use, the harvest is
entering the temple granaries of Babylonia.
Amidst all this glad activity, NingiÍzida and his
symbols are taken on a jubilant trip by barge, no
doubt to ensure that the land surrenders its
bounty to him for distribution. Gods frequently
travelled by boat during festivals; in the Ur III
period NingiÍzida possessed a ceremonial barge
49
that received offerings of sheep at Girsu (ITT V
6823: 6, ed. Sallaberger 1993 II 175). The starting point of the journey reported in the present
text was probably Ur, the only large town
downstream of GiÍbanda and Enegi. This was a
place with which NingiÍzida had close cultic
links from at least the late third millennium and,
as already mentioned, an active cult in the postUr III period. In the context of ritual, a visit by
NingiÍzida to Enegi and GiÍbanda in this era
would be a journey into the past, a trip to abandoned settlements that once were home. The
myth of NingiÍzida’s occupation of Enegi can
thus be made to fit the cultic reality of the period after the downfall of Ur.
Oh Girl, Whoopee!
No. 8
2866
This complete tablet contains a short composition written over twenty-three lines of tablet;
when arranged as poetry they yield eight couplets and one verse. The poem is a fine example
of Old Babylonian love poetry. Very little such
poetry is extant. Some of what survives belongs
in the formal context of court or temple. One
composition is a text containing amatory dialogue between two deities, Muati and Nanay,
preserved on a late Old Babylonian tablet from
Babylon now in Berlin (Lambert 1966). It
includes blessings for Babylon and King AbieÍuÓ, so a cultic or ritual context is not in doubt.
Another composition, now at Yale, includes
similar dialogue between participants in a rite
of sacred marriage (YOS XI 24, ed. Sigrist and
Westenholz 2008); the text mentions King
R‹m-Sîn of Larsa and Nanay, the goddess of
the marital bed. A third, much-translated, dialogue inscribed on a tablet in Istanbul is clearly
secular, though it invokes King °ammurapi of
Babylon and Nanay; it shares two stanzas with
Text No. 10, where it is discussed further. Two
other love poems from the Old Babylonian
period have recently been studied, as noted in
the introduction to Text No. 9. Both are fragmentary but what survives is addressed by
women to men and probably from secular contexts. Seven fragments of Old Babylonian tablets found at Kish and hitherto published only
in cuneiform have been identified as “love-lyrics” by Nathan Wasserman in his catalogue of
Old Babylonian literary texts (2003: 203–4 nos.
125–27, 129–32). Some of them mention deities but none of them holds so much as a complete clause; their generic ascription remains
uncertain.
For a survey of Babylonian and other
ancient Near Eastern love poetry see Joan
Goodnick Westenholz’s contribution to the
Pls. 22–23
encyclopedia Civilizations of the Ancient Near
East (Westenholz 1995). A monograph on the
topic of Liebe in der altorientalischen Dichtung
promises much but is not fully informed
(Musche 1999). The related genre of love spells
is discussed below, in the introduction to Text
No. 11.
Content
Unusual for Old Babylonian love poetry, the
first-person voice of this poem is male. He has
fallen in love with a girl, much to her mother’s
displeasure (ll. 1–4). He immerses himself completely in a love that consumes him like a parasite (5–6). The girl smells sweet as date-syrup
and acts with ripe sensuality (7–9). When he
hears her name it is as dear to him as the air he
breathes; her coy smile, half-concealed, excites
him (11–13). Then follows a flashback: it is for
lovers to dream but, by contrast, his own mood
was sour (14–15). But maybe the goddess of
love had really found him work, and ordained
an absence of rivals (16–17). Thereupon happiness entered his life (18–19). He wakes early,
roused by a chorus of swallows, and cannot fall
asleep again (20–21), realizing that Cupid has
re-entered his life (22–23).
Aspects of Language and Writing
In a departure from the normal poetic style, the
stress is inconsistently placed. Only three times
does it definitely appear in the conventional
place, on the penultimate syllable: áppim (ll. 7–
8), Íun⁄tim (14), mayy⁄lim (21). Two lines end
with final stress: i‰‹k (1–2), iggeltâm (20), and
probably a further nine lines terminate with
antepenultimate stress: kábtat‹ (3–4), muÓáttitam
(5), muÓáttitum (6), kábtatum (9–10), munámmiÍat (13), kábtatum (15), ánni’am (16), r⁄’im›
(17), kábtat‹ (18), ⁄riru? (19).
50
Oh Girl, Whoopee!
The orthography is similar to that encountered in Text No. 9: the syllable /ˇi/ is spelled
both ˇì(TI), northern style, and ˇi, as favored in
the south: ba-la-ˇì-im (11), na-ˇi-il (14); but
southern conventions are /pi/ written pi and
the use of ZV signs, viz. sí and sà, for /sV/: diiÍ-pi-im (7), ap-pi-i-im (8), sí-qí-ir (11), ‰í-Óa-as-sà
(13), sà-ab-sà-at (15). Geminated consonants are
frequently written defectively: li-bi (2), a-li-tim
(3), li-ba-am mu-Óa-ti-tam (5), mu-Óa-ti-tu (6),
mu-na-mi-Ía-at (13), li-bi (15), i-ge-el-ta-am (20).
One short vowel is written plene: ap-pi-i-im (8).
Mimation is absent from some forms where it is
expected: ra-mu mu-Óa-ti-tu (4), ka-ab-ta-tu (10),
perhaps Óar-du, a-ri-ru (19). Crasis occurs once:
ur-Íi-ma-ag-ru-ur (21) for urÍim agrur.
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
3
5
6
7
9
11
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
rev.
22
1
4
5
6
7
9
11
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
ma-ar-ti a-la-lí 2 li-bi i-‰í-ik
‰í-Óa-at a-li-tim it-ba-al 4 ka-ab-ta-ti
i-Ía-al-li li-ba-am mu-Óa-ti-tam
da-du-Ía ra-mu mu-Óa-ti-tu
ki-ma di-iÍ-pi-im ˇa-ba-at 8 a-na ap!-pi-i-im
ki-ma ka-ra-nim eÍ-Íi-et 10 in-bi ka-ab-ta-tu
ki-ma ba-la-ˇì-im sí-qí-ir Íu-mi-Ía 12 la Íi-bu
[r]e?-qé-et-ma ‰í-Óa-as-sà mu-na-mi-Ía-at
[ra-Í]i ra-i-im-tim na-ˇi-il Íu-‚naŸ-tim
[Óe-pi?]-ma li-bi sà-ab-sà-at ka-ab-ta-tum
[Íum-ma?]-an iÍ-ku-un diÍ8-tár Íi-ip-ra-am ‚an-niŸ-a-am
[i-ma-t]im? a-a in-<na>-am-ru ra-i-mu
[li-i]b-bi!(fiE)-ma i-li-i‰ i-wi-ir ka-ab-ta-ti
[x x]-ma ki-na-tum Óar-du ù a-ri-ru
[a-ri-g]i-im Íi-nu-nu-tim i-ge-el-ta-am
[i-n]a ur-Íi-ma-ag-ru-ur i-na ma-a-a-li-im
it-tu-ra-am i-ri-[mu-um] 23 ‰e-ri-iÍ ka-ab-[ta-ti-ia]
TRANSLATION
O girl, whoopee! my heart laughed,
my mood 3 took away the mother’s smiles.
It plunges into the heart that “infests,”
making love to her is a love that “infests.”
Sweet she is as syrup 8 to the nose,
like wine fresh 10 of fruit is (her) mood.
Like life is the sound of her name 12 . . . ,
her smile is hidden(?) yet stirring to motion.
[He that] has a lover is a dreamer of dreams;
my heart was [despondent(?)] and (my) mood fierce.
[Supposing(?)] IÍtar has set (me) this task,
may no (other) lovers [ever(?)] appear!
[My] heart grew elated, my mood turned bright,
[ . . . ] colleague, . . . and curser.
[At the] noise of swallows I(! tablet: he) awoke,
[in] the bedchamber I tossed and turned on the bed.
The Love [Charm] had come back 23 into my heart!
2
51
52
Babylonian Literary Texts
NOTES
1. The use of m⁄rtum for the beloved is paralleled in poems of the female voice that
address the beloved as m⁄rum “son” (see the
note on Text No. 9: 4). Although a-la-lí is
a previously unattested spelling of the
common ululation al⁄li, no alternative
decipherment (e.g. all⁄n‹ “my acorn,” allall‹ “my hoopoe”) seems more attractive.
The English expression “whoopee” can
carry with it a sexual innuendo that is not
hitherto known for al⁄li but makes it an
appropriate translation in the wider context of the poem.
2. The phrase libbum ‰âÓum occurs also with
the verb spelled with final /k/ in a newly
published late Old Babylonian or early
Middle Babylonian tablet of GilgameÍ, at
the point when Ninsun explains a dream of
GilgameÍ and tells him he will fall in love (i
24): ta-am-ma-ar-Íu-ma libba(Íà)-ka i-‰a-ak
“you will see him and your heart will
laugh” (George 2008: 64 l. 24).
5, 6. The participle muÓattitum is here taken as
the active counterpart of Óuttutum “infested,” which describes people suffering from
lice, etc. The implication is that the object
of the lover’s devotion and the love he has
for her gnaw away at him like parasites,
which, as it were, he cannot get out of his
hair: hardly an attractive image but certainly a vivid one.
7. Similarly syrupy language occurs in the
love lyrics of Muati and Nanay (Lambert
1966: 48 ll. 9–10).
10. The word inbum, here accusative plural
qualifying eÍÍet, is full of erotic innuendo:
just as wine’s ripe fruitiness makes it good
to drink, so the girl’s newly mature “fruits”
create around her an irresistible sexual
allure. Fruit and gardens are stock metaphors for genitals, sexual attraction and
desire in Babylonian and other ancient
Near Eastern love poetry (Lambert 1987:
27–31, Westenholz 1992: 382–83, Groneberg 1999: 182–85, Veenker 1999–2000:
58–62), though Sumerian love songs use
the garden imagery sparingly (Sefati 1998:
89–90; Geller 2002: 136–37 l. 6). Pomegranates, especially, were believed to have
aphrodisiac properties and feature accordingly in the cults of goddesses of love
(George 2000: 272).
12. The sequence of signs la Íi bu defeats any
decipherment that is obviously meaningful. Perhaps emend to Ía l⁄ eÍebbû “of
which I cannot get enough.”
13. A form written re-qé-et will usually mean
“distant” (r¤qum), but there is an alternative
parsing from raqûm “to hide.” This verb
occurs in the stative and verbal adjective in
OB GilgameÍ VA+BM i 14: re-qé-e-et ek-letum and iv 11: ur-Óa-am re-qé-e-tam (see further George 2003: 283 and 284). Other
verbs are also candidates for restoration,
e.g. [e]t-qé-et “is crooked,” but I like the
notion that the girl’s coyness excites the
poem’s narrator. In some traditional cultures where teeth are thought to compromise beauty it is common to cover the
mouth when smiling or laughing. I have
observed this habit often in Japan but a particularly instructive literary instance occurs
in Mikhail Sholokhov’s Tikhi Don. In this
epic Russian novel about the uprising of
the Don Cossacks after the revolution,
published in serial form between 1928 and
1940, a flirtatious young widow encounters the hero as he returns home from war:
“She gazed at him attentively, and pulled
her kerchief over her lips to hide her smile.
Her voice sounded thicker and a new note
crept into it” (Sholokhov 1970: 682). The
word ‰‹Ótum is not just a smile or a laugh,
however; it often has amorous connotations, and thus here it is not only the girl’s
mouth that is hidden but also her sensuality. For examples of ‰‹Ótum in love poetry
see conveniently Groneberg 1999: 185–87.
18. The emendation is recommended by the
commonness of the idiom libbum el¤‰um
and the frequency of the pairing of libbum
Oh Girl, Whoopee!
and kabtatum in literary contexts (e.g. l. 15).
The exact same combination of nouns and
verbs as that proposed here occurs in a
prism inscription of Esarhaddon, but with
the opposite chiasmus (KAH II 127 vii 12'–
14', ed. Borger 1956: 6 §2): e-li-i‰ lib-ba-Íú
ka-bat-tuÍ im-mir “Elated grew (AÍÍur’s)
heart, his mood turned bright.”
19. The word written °UR-du is hardly Óardu
“wakeful,” for this and other words from
the same root appear only in Assyrian. I can
suggest no convincing decipherment.
20. As written, the verb of this line is third person. I understand the couplet to describe
the lover’s sleeplessness described in the
first person (so with agrur in the next line),
and suspect eggeltâm was intended.
22. On ir‹mum see Westenholz and Westenholz 1977: 205–7. Their conclusion is that
53
“‹rimum” (or ir‹mum?) is the quality that
makes women attractive to men, which in
the Old Akkadian love charm they edit was
mythologized as a divine being, ir-e-mu-um
mara’(dumu) deÍtar(inanna) “ir’emum, the
child of IÍtar.” A dissenting opinion, that
this word denotes only a piece of jewelry
specific to IÍtar and related goddesses, has
been voiced by Brigitte Groneberg, who
dismisses the notion of the “child of IÍtar”
as a metaphor (Groneberg 2001: 110–11).
Jewelry is part of IÍtar’s allure, certainly,
but this is too restricted a view. A personified ir‹mum fits the present passage perfectly and is further evidence of ir‹mum as the
Babylonian Cupid. Note also in Text No.
10:3: ul anaddiÍÍim ir‹m‹ “I shall not give her
my Love Charm,” where ir‹mum is a
euphemism for the sexual attentions of a
man.
I Shall Be a Slave to You
No. 9
5111
Pls. 24–26
Aspects of Language and Writing
This is another complete tablet of Old Babylonian love poetry, containing thirty-six lines of
text divided by rulings and by the turn from
obverse to reverse into eight stanzas, which
vary in length from three lines to five. The
poem is hard to understand, especially its beginning and end. The tablet’s surface is in places poor and difficult to read. The writing makes
use of crasis and apocopation and is prone to
errors of omission and overwriting. All this
substantially hinders decipherment. The present edition is consequently highly provisional.
It is to be hoped that improved understanding
will come of exposing the text to a wider readership.
The prosody is unusual. Short lines of two or
three poetic units predominate; four-unit lines
are very rare. This has the effect of a breathless
excitability suitable for the poem’s topic. A
penultimate stress is usually apparent. Parallelism can be observed, and some pairs of lines
clearly complement each other in sense (ll. 9–
10, 14–15, 23–24) or are syntactically bound
(30–31). But with five and three-line stanzas
there can be no rigid pairing of lines in couplets
over the whole text.
The use of superfluous epenthetic vowels
elevates the language: ra-i-ma-tu (l. 20) against
ra-i-im-tu (27), a-ma-[tu] (21) instead of amtum.
The omission of an epenthetic vowel, if not a
spelling mistake, produces the rare status rectus
aÍtim (13) for aÍÍatim, analogous to the st. constr. aÍti. There is an interesting preference observable in this text’s rendering of the 1.c.sg.
stative pars⁄ku: final -u is retained where the last
radical is weak: leqâku? (5), duwwâku, ewêku
(15), but deleted where it is strong: ‰abt⁄k (10),
ÍummuÓ⁄k (12), akl⁄k (15), waÍr⁄k (25). A single
exception, nasq⁄ku (21), may be explained as
crasis in the immediate proximity of the semivowel /w/ (nasq⁄k-waÍratu). Clearer examples
of crasis are pa-ni-ti-ia-aÓ-sú-us4-ma (11) for
p⁄n‹t‹-aÓsus and pa-ni-ka-mu-ur (17) for p⁄n‹ka⁄mur.
Mimation is dropped more often than
retained.1 Gemination is marked only in a minor-
Content
In all but the first stanza, it is clear from the
grammatical forms that a woman addresses a
man; no doubt this is the case throughout. The
poem thus belongs to a subgenre of love poetry
otherwise represented in Old Babylonian literature by a fragment from Kish now in Istanbul,
in which a woman offers herself to her lover
(Westenholz 1987); and an unprovenanced
piece now in Geneva, in which a woman pines
for her absent lover (Groneberg 1999). The
scenario in the present composition is different
again. A woman has lost her heart to a man
who does not notice her. The intensity of her
longing is a new experience for her. Thoughts
of him occupy her entire mind and take over
her life. Her body is his for the taking. If only
he will have her, she will be his slave forever.
Behind the woman’s back her friends talk
about nothing else; perhaps hers is a forbidden
passion. He should not take any notice of the
gossip but accept her love.
1
54
Without mimation: a-ta-i-da (l. 3), [Íu?]-ti
(10), ma-ka-ki? (13), ra-i-ma-tu, tu-qà-ku (20),
wa-aÍ-ra-tu (21), da-[mi]-iq-ta (22), mi-Íi (23),
ka-Ía-di (24), e-re-du-ku (25), ra-i-im-tu (27),
im-ma, ir-ti-qá-ni (28), sà-ra-ti (32), ma-da
(34); with mimation: a-ka-Íi-im (5), na-ra-muum (7), i-te-eg-ra-am (8), aÍ-ti-im (13), ki-tu-um
(22), i-la-am (27).
I Shall Be a Slave to You
55
ity of instances.1 Spelling is mostly southern: the
syllable /sV/ is written with signs from the ZV
range: aÓ-sú-us4 (11), a-sà-Óu-ur (13), ú-sé-le-ka
(18), sà-ra-ti (32); /pi/ is written with the sign pi:
pi-Íi-na (29). But, as read here, there is one mixed
form, with TI for /ˇi/ and ZU for /su/: na-ˇì-<la>sú (4); the same mixture of usage occurs in Text
No. 8. The syllable /qa/ is written with both qà
and qá: le-qà-ku (5), tu-qà-ku (20), na-as-qá-ku (21),
ir-ti-qá-ni (28).
1
a-da-bu-ub (14), ú-za-mi-ka (16), a-ta-Íu-uÍ (17) for
⁄taÍÍuÍ, ú-sé-le-ka, li-ri-Ía!-ni (18), mu-di-ti-i (19) for
muddiÍ‹, tu-qà-ku (20), ki-tu-um (22), e-re-du-ku (25),
ir-ti-qá-ni (28), i-a-da-ra (31), li-ba-ka, sà-ra-ti (32), libi (33), mi-ma (34).
Written plene: ú-um-ta-aÍ-Íi (l. 9), it-ti-ka (12),
li-ib-ba-ka (18), at-ta-a-ma (19), it-ta-ka (22),
im-ma (28), ur-ri (31); written defectively: a-Íaka-an? (2), a-ta-i-da a-ta-‰a-ar (3), na-ˇì-<la>-sú
(4), a-ka-Íi-im (5) for ak-kâÍim, du-Íu-up-ta-ka
(8), [Íu?]-ti (10), Íu-mu-Óa-ak (12), a-sà-Óu-ur (13),
Babylonian Literary Texts
56
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
rev.
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
edge
36
‚a-na-ku?Ÿ [ . . . ]
a-Ía-ka-an?-ma x x [x x]
a-ta-i-da a-ta-‚‰aŸ-[a]r [x] x / x x [x]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ú-ul i-de [m]a-rum ‚naŸ-ˇì-<la>-‚súŸ
a-ka-‚Íi-imŸ ma-di-iÍ ‚le?Ÿ-qà-‚ku!Ÿ
ú-ul uÍ-t[a?-me]-eq a-na m[a-ma-a]n
‚riŸ-Í[a-ni? Óu-u]m?-ˇám-ma ‚naŸ-ra-mu-um
[li?]-bi ‚iŸ-te-‚egŸ-ra-am du-‚Íu-up-taŸ-ka
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ú-um-ta-aÍ-Íi a-wa-ti-ia
ˇe4-mi <ú>-ul ‰a-ab-ta-‚akŸ ki-ma [Íu?]-ti
pa-ni-ti-ia-aÓ-sú-us4-ma
Ía Íu-mu-Óa-ak i-li it-ti-ka
a-sà-Óu-ur ki-ma aÍ-ti-im a-‚naŸ [la?]-a / ma-ka-‚ki?Ÿ
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------a-da-bu-ub-ka-ma ka-ma-a-a-‚anŸ
ak-la-ak du-wa-ku e-we-‚ku?Ÿ
Ía-ni-iÍ ú-za-mi-ka
a-ta-Íu-uÍ [p]a-ni-ka-mu-ur
i-la-at ‚ú-séŸ-le-ka li-i[b]- / ba-ka li-ri-‚Ía!-niŸ
at-ta-a-ma mu-di-ti-i-ma
ù ra-i-ma-tu lu tu-qà-ku
na-as-qá-ku wa-aÍ-ra-tu ù a-ma-[tu] / e-li-k[a]
ki-tu-um Íi-ia-ti it-ta-ka ‚daŸ-[mi]-iq-ta!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------in-bu-ú-a ú-ul Ía mi-Íi
da-du-ú-a ú-ul Ía ka-Ía-di
e-re-du-ku wa-aÍ-ra-ak
ù Íi-ri-ik-ta-ka ra-mi-i-ma
ra-i-im-tu a-na Ía [ta-r]a-mu / i-la-am [t]u-‚Íi?Ÿ-[r]e?-‚maŸ
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ia-ti im-ma ir-ti-qá-ni
i-na pi-Íi-na ú-ul WA-ri-is Óa?!-bi-bi
a-ki-la-at ka-ar-<‰i>-i-a
ú-ul i-a-da-ra m[u-Íi] ‚ù urŸ-ri
li-<iÓ?>-bu-ub a-a il-qé li-ba-‚kaŸ / sà-r[a-t]i
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------a-na li-bi-[x (x)] x x x x
ma-da mi-‚maŸ [x ]x-i ma-l[i?]
Ía [x ]x ‚ia-tiŸ d[i?-(x) x]
[x (x) ]x-ar ú-u[l x x x] / x x[ x x x]
I Shall Be a Slave to You
TRANSLATION
1
2
3
I am [ . . . ]
I shall place . . . [ . . . ]
I shall pay careful attention, I shall watch out [ . . . ] . . .
4
5
6
7
8
Does the darling boy not know the girl who is watching(!) him?
To you I am very much attracted(?),
I have not [abased(?)] myself to anyone (before).
Delight in me, hurry to me, O beloved,
your sweetness has given my [heart(?)] a twist.
9
10
11
12
13
I kept letting myself forget what I was going to say,
I had no control of my thoughts, as (in) a dream(?).
I recalled the one who came before me.
I who am blooming with health, my god (is) with you,
I appeal (to you) like a wife, so as not to beg(?).
14
15
16
17
18
I think of you constantly,
I am consumed, convulsed, tortured(?).
Again I yearned for you, 17 I grew ever more distraught,
(then) I saw your face, 18 you are a god!
I implore you, let your heart delight(?) in me.
19
20
21
22
You it is that makes me feel new(?),
and (I swear) a lover truly waits for you.
I am chosen (as) the one who will be subservient and a slave to you!
In truth, (behold) this woman, your favorable portent!
23
24
25
26
27
My fruits are not things to ignore,
my charms are not things (easily) taken.
I shall be suitable for you, I shall be subservient,
and (my) dowry to you is my love.
A lover [brings] luck (lit. a god) to the one she loves.
28
29
30
31
32
As for me, during the day they (fem.) kept away from me,
from their speech my darling is not barred.
The women who gossip about me,
they have no cares by night and day.
May your heart make love(?), may it not believe (their) lies!
33
34
35
36
Upon [my] heart . . . . . .
with many a thing(?) my [ . . . ] is full(?).
. . . me . . . . . .
. . . not . . . . . .
57
58
Babylonian Literary Texts
NOTES
3. With atta”id atta‰‰ar (both I/2 present)
compare the injunction e-Ói-id i‰-‰a-ar “pay
attention, be on your guard!” (respectively
I/1 impt. and I/2 impt.) in at least two Old
Babylonian letters (Kupper 1959: 35 D29:
11 and n. 1).
4. For m⁄rum, literally “son,” “boy,” as a lover’s term of endearment see the references
collected in CAD M/1 314, also Black
1983: 28–29. It remains possible that
m⁄rum is not the subject of ul ‹de but an
interjection: “I do not know, O darling
boy, . . . ,” which would better match the
second-person address in l. 5; but then I
am unable to do anything at all with the
last word.
6. The first sign, encroaching as it does on
the left edge, has clearly been added as an
afterthought. The verb is restored without
great confidence; Íut¤muqum elsewhere has
the meaning “to pray,” but self-abasement
may be what is essentially at issue.
7. The verb ri’⁄Íum is part of the vocabulary
of love: see a line of the love lyrics of Nanay and Muati (Lambert 1966: 48 ll. 7–8): riÍa-tim li-ib-‚ba-ÍuŸ tu-Ía-am-la el-‰i-iÍ “She
will gladly fill his heart with delight!”
8. Or, reading ‹teqram, “my heart grew in
value with respect to your sweetness.”
12. Since enjambement is so rare in Babylonian poetry, the signs i-li must either conceal the line’s main verb, which should be
first person, or the line is a nominal clause.
Neither ¤li “I went up” nor el’e “I was
able” is obviously suitable in terms of
sense, nor is either well spelled by i-li.
Accordingly I have opted for a nominal
clause; the sense of it is perhaps that the
woman’s guardian deity has, like her,
transferred his attentions to the beloved.
14–15. The small interlinear ma represents a
retrospective interpolation in one or other
line; I presume that the scribe wanted to
alter kayy⁄n to rarer kayyam⁄n.
15. For want of any obvious alternative, duwa-ku is parsed as a rare Old Babylonian
attestation of the verb dawûm “to jerk,”
here in the II/1 stative. The third verb also
needs comment. There are two verbs
ewûm. The common ewûm “to change,
turn into” is not used absolutively; the rare
ewûm occurs only in the Old Babylonian
prayer to An›na, in the phrase i-wu-a-an-ni
in-ni-na ar-ni (PBS I/1 2, 42, ed. Lambert
1989a: 326 ii 89). This has been translated
as “belasten mit (meiner Sünde)” (AHw
267 s.v. ewûm II) and more fully as “Inninna prosecuted me for my guilt” (Lambert
1989a: 330). Clearly it is a verb that expresses the uncomfortable effects of divine
retribution, and I have translated ewêku in
the present line accordingly.
16–18. The division of lines of poetry into lines
of tablet looks faulty. A more even length
of line and better sense are to be had by
pausing after a-ta-Íu-uÍ and i-la-at:
19.
20.
21.
23.
ÍanîÍ | uzamm‹ka | ⁄táÍÍuÍ
p⁄n‹k(a) | ⁄mur | il⁄t
usell¤ka | líbbaka | lir‹Íánni
A word mu-di-tum occurs in the OB love
lyric YOS XI 24 i 2: zi-ib-ba-sú il-te-qé mudi-tum! “An experienced woman has taken
his tail.” However, a feminine is ruled out
here, and instead the spelling mu-di-ti-i is
understood to represent muddi͋, another
example of the use in Old Babylonian of
signs tV for syllables /ÍV/.
The particle l› with the present signifying
oath occurs also in the OB love dialogue,
where the oath is explicit (Held 1961: 9 ll.
6–7: at-ma-ki-im . . . lu a-qá-ab-bi-ki-im “I
swear to you . . . that I am telling you”).
The erased signs are probably ku wa [aÍ] ra
tu, showing that what made the correction
necessary was the original omission of qá in
nasq⁄ku.
“Fruits” is a word full of erotic charge: see
the comment on Text No. 8: 10.
I Shall Be a Slave to You
25. Cf. the OB love lyric YOS XI 24 ii 9: erte-ed-du-kum la ta-ka-aÍ-Íi-da-an-ni “I grew
ever more suitable for you, you could never get rid of me (i.e. tukaÍÍidanni).”
27. The last word is understood as tuÍerremma
< er¤bum.
28. im-ma: hardly emm⁄ “they are hot.”
29. The signs WA-ri-is are taken as a faulty
spelling of paris or a dialect form of the
59
word with Umlaut (pe-ri-is). The last word
is provisionally understood as a *par‹s formation from 3Óbb in the light of Óab⁄bum
“to make love”; comparison to ≈ab‹b‹ “my
dear,” a term of endearment that punctuates some modern Arabic conversation,
can only be superficial, for the two roots
are not cognate.
A Field Full of Salt
No. 10
3285
This tablet, complete but not free from damage, is inscribed with fifty lines of text in a single column. In physical appearance and ungainly ductus the tablet resembles the GilgameÍ
tablets, Texts Nos. 5 and 6, and the three may
have originated in the same place. The text on
this piece is an Old Babylonian poem divided
into seven or eight stanzas by double rulings.
Two of these stanzas are shared with the lovers’
dialogue now kept in Istanbul as Si 57, edited
first by Wolfram von Soden and then by
Moshe Held (von Soden 1950, Held 1961,
1962). This latter text, now known as The
Faithful Lover, has been revisited more recently by other scholars (Ponchia 1996: 89–93, 115–
19, 150–54; Groneberg 2002; Klein and Sefati
2008) and twice translated in anthologies of
Babylonian literature (Hecker 1989: 743–47,
Foster 2005: 155–59). The passages common to
the two compositions are as follows:
1–8 // The Faithful Lover ii 10–19. The new
text includes one line that is absent from The
Faithful Lover (l. 4) and omits two lines
present in that text (ii 15–16). In addition, it
offers, among a few less prominent variants, a
different version of the last line of the passage
(8 // ii 19).
9–16 // The Faithful Lover i 1–8. The
present text is a closer match for this passage
of The Faithful Lover, although the first line
is substantially different; in addition, one line
of The Faithful Lover (i 5) is either absent or
lost in the break at the end of l. 11 (where it
could have appeared only in a shorter form).
There the similarity between the two
poems ends. Some of the present composition
is not fully understood, but enough emerges to
show that it is not a dialogue between an ardent
woman and a man who does not bring the
same passion to their relationship, but a mono-
Pls. 27–30
logue, voiced by a man to a woman when ending their affair. The tone is direct to the point
of rudeness.
Content
A provisional sketch of the contents runs as follows. The man begins by finding the woman’s
nonsubmissiveness unattractive (1–2) and announces a suspension of intimacy (3–8). He
complains that she talks too much (9–10), disallows a reconciliation (11–12), and asserts his
male dominance (13–16). He insults her birth
and disparages her looks (17–19), and accuses
her of a shameful lack of obedience and an offputting will of her own (20–25). She should
look for fault in herself alone, because his previous lovers did not complain (26–27). She, on
the other hand, is as much use as a salt-ridden
field and, even though he has enjoyed using her
body, the sex did not make up for her shortcomings (28–31). The way she is, no one will
want to become intimate with her (35–36). She
should learn to take care of her man and not
make his life painful (37–38). She’s been promiscuous, perhaps (39), and for a young woman she has too strong a will (40–41). But setting
her free will be like swallowing a potsherd, and
having done that, it would not be easy to speak
again (42–45). This image perhaps expresses an
anxiety that, once she has left his life, he will
not be able to declare his feelings to another.
The real cause of the man’s tirade perhaps
comes last: the woman lost her head to an
admirer and stayed up too late, dancing the
night away (46–50).
This is not, then, a love poem, but a composition about the end of a relationship. The
male voice of the text expresses many classic
attitudes of misogyny, both individual and
social, revealing a man who is vain, callous, and
egocentric. The more he utters the scornful
60
A Field Full of Salt
words that revile his lover, the more cruel and
unsympathetic he seems, and the poem is thus
cleverly unflattering to both sexes at once. As a
piece of literature the poem has little charm, but
emerges as a remarkable study of the psychology of men’s relationships with women. Its purpose was perhaps satirical, but it may have
become a copy book for the sake of its abusive
language, which no doubt appealed to the adolescent minds of apprentice scribes.
Aspects of Language and Writing
The language is plain, perhaps vernacular,
but note a superfluous epenthetic vowel in bela-ki (37), if correctly deciphered. The I/1
present of nad⁄num appears as anandin (7); on
inaddin : inandin as diagnostic of the provenance
of mathematical texts see Goetze 1945: 147,
who found the former northern, the latter
southern. An example of crasis is ki-ma-Íi-ir (41)
for k‹ma ⁄Íir, with elision k‹m-⁄Íir.
61
Mimation is consistently present, with only
two exceptions: pu-Ói (17), Ía-at-tu-ú-ri (48).
Geminated consonants are usually spelled plene;
exceptions are: mu-ka-zi-ib-tam (2), [a-Ó]a-du-ú
(31), ma-ma-an (36). There is one example of a
short vowel spelled plene in an internal open syllable: u‰-‰i-i-‰i (27), and two in closed syllables:
e-ep-Íi-e-et-ki (37), Ía-at-tu-ú-ri (48). There are
also four examples of plene spellings of the last
syllable of a verb from a finally weak root: ti-Íii (19), [a]-Óa-ad-du-ú (29), aÓ-du-ú (30), [a-Ó]adu-ú (31); contrast a-Ía-aq-qú (4). The repertoire
of signs is mostly southern: the syllable /sV/ is
expressed with signs from the ZV range: mu-séep-[pi-tam] (1), ú-sà-an-na-qá-a[Í-Íu] (8), sí-in-niiÍ-t[im] (13), sà-ma-an (14), sí-Ói-i-ki (26), sà-assú-ri-i-ki (40); exception: ta-su-úr-ri (48). The
syllable /pi/ is consistently written pi: li-pi-ittam (19), ú-pe-e (24), pi-a-am (33).
62
Babylonian Literary Texts
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
rev.
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
[e-ze]-‚eŸ-er la ‚muŸ-sé-‚epŸ-[pi-tam]
‚ú-ulŸ a-Óa-aÍ-Íi-iÓ la mu-ka-‚ziŸ-ib-tam
ú-ul a-na-ad-di-iÍ-Íi-im i-ri-mi
a-Ía-aq-qú el-Ía
da-ba-bu-um a-na la ma-ga-r[i-i]m
mi-nam i-ba-aÍ-[s]i?
a-Íar li-ib-bi ek-le-[tim a-na-a]n-di-in ra-mi
ú-ul ú-sà-an-na-qá-a[Í-Íu ma-am]-ma-an
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Óu-u‰-bi ez-bi ta-aÍ-t[a-ak-ni? q]ú-li
la ma-gal da-[ba-bu-um]
qá-bé-e qá-bu-um-m[a x x x x]
ú-ul e-n[i-a-ak-ki-i]m
Ía a-na sí-in-ni-iÍ-t[im ip-pa-ra-qá-du]
sà-ma-an du-ri-im [Íu-ú]
Íum-ma la i[t-qú-ud]
‚ú-ulŸ a-wi-lum m[i-Ói-ir-Íu]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ma-‚ra?Ÿ-[a]t pu-Ói wa-a[l-da-ti]
i-na [la] Íi-ri-[ik-tim]
ti-Íi-i li-‚piŸ-it-tam [i-na p]u?-‚timŸ
a-di ‚tuŸ-qál-la-l[i] ta-[ab-t]a?-aÍ-Íi
lu-uq-bi-ki-im Ía aÍ-‚riŸ-[ki]
ú-ul te-Íi-im-me-en-ni at-‚tiŸ
wa-ar-ku li-ib-bi-i-ki
ú-‚pe-eŸ ra-ak-ba-ti-i-ma
ru-ú-Óa-am tu-uk-ta-na-aÍ-Ía-di
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------e[t?]-qé-et a-li bu-ur sí-Ói-i-ki
u‰-‰i-i-‰i pa-ni-a-tim
ki-ma eqel(a.Íà)el id-ra-ni-im
[a]-Óa-ad-du-ú ka-la-a-ma
[a]Ó!-du-ú in-ba-am
[a-Ó]a-‚du-úŸ ka-la-[a-ma]
ù? [ . . . . . . . . . ]
pi-a-‚amŸ [ . . . . . . ]
ra-i-mu-u[m . . . . . . ]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚laŸ ta!(Ía)-aÍ-ta-a[k-ka-ni x x ]x-nu-um
a-na pa-ti-i-‚ki ma-ma-anŸ [ú]-ul i-ˇe4-eÓ-<Óe>-Íi
be-‚la?Ÿ-ki e-ep-Íi-e-et-ki
i-na ‚ˇaŸ-ab-tim la ta-Ía-ak-ka-ni
eqel(a.Íà)-ki! Óu-uk-ku-um
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ía la tu-ub!-lim i-na sà-as-sú-ri-i-ki
A Field Full of Salt
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
TRANSLATION
[I] spurn the girl who will not worship (me),
I have no desire for one who does not fawn.
I shall not give her my Love Charm,
I shall rise above her.
Speaking up in order to disagree,
how can that be shameful [on] her(?) account.
[I shall] hand over my love to the midst of darkness,
no one shall gain control of [it].
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Break off, leave, you have [put me in a] stupor,
not so much chatter!
What I said is what is said, [my words]
I have not revoked [on your] account.
He who [lies supine] for a woman:
a weevil(?) from the city wall [is he!]
If he is not self-[centered],
[his kind] is not a man.
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
[You were] born the daughter(?) of a substitute,
with [no] dowry;
you have a birthmark [on the] forehead(?).
While you show no respect, you [put yourself] to shame.
Let me tell you how it is with [you]:
you do not listen to me,
(you do) as you please,
riding the clouds,
you drive every boyfriend away.
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
It is too much! Where is the source of your trouble-making?
Ask the women who came before you!
(You are?) like a field full of salt:
[should I] take pleasure in all of (you)?
[I took] pleasure in the fruit:
[should I take] pleasure in all of (you)?
and(?) [ . . . . . . . . . ]
mouth [ . . . . . . . . . ]
lover [ . . . . . . . . . ]
35
36
37
38
39
You must not [put . . . ] . . .
to your canal no one will go near.
Your master (is) your task,
you must not put (him?) in salt(?).
Your field is well explored(?).
40
You, who have not brought forth from your womb,
63
Babylonian Literary Texts
64
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
ki-ma-Íi-ir ni-Íi ˇe4-e-ma-am <taÍakkan‹?>
a-na-ku iÍ-Ói-il-‰a-am a-la-a-at
ka-al-ba-tam ú-uÍ-Ía-ar
la-i-im ab-nim a-na wa-Ía-ri-i-ki
ma-ti qá-ba-a-‚ÍuŸ li-iÍ-ku-un
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Íu-ur-ru-um-ma at-ti i-nu-ma iq-ri-ba-a[k-ki-im]
ki-ma dbi-li-li ta-‚duŸ-um-mi
ta-su-úr-ri [Í]a-at-tu-ú-ri
a-na ‰a-la-li-im
te-em-mi-di ni-zi-iq-tam ra-ma-a[n-ki]
NOTES
1. Formerly musepp‹tam was parsed from suppûm “to abduct” (Held 1961: 17, translating “seduce”; CAD M/2 235). The newly
recovered parallel at the end of l. 2 demonstrates that we must take it instead from
suppûm “to pray,” as Groneberg already
proposed (2002: 179 n. 5). She, however,
read the first word as e-sé-er “Ich setze dich
fest.”
3. The word ir‹m‹ is here an attribute of a
man’s lovemaking, surely a euphemism;
see further the note on Text No. 8: 22.
5. The traces on the photograph of The
Faithful Lover can now be seen also to read
la ma-g[a-ri-im] (von Soden 1949: 168 ii
13).
7. The Faithful Lover omits libbi (ii 17): a-Íaar ‚ekŸ-l[e-tim] looks possible on the photograph (von Soden 1949: 168); von Soden
did not read the trace after aÍar, Held read
zi-[ . . . ] (1961: 7). The meaning of the
image of love stowed away in the dark is
perhaps that he will not allow any one easy
access to it. Alternatively restore aÍar libb‹
iq-li-[lu] “a place where my heart grew
lighter.” For anandin r⁄m‹ the parallel has (ii
18) ra-mi at-ta-di “I have cast aside my
love.”
8. The Faithful Lover reads differently (ii 19):
mi-nam tu-sa-an-na-qá-ni-i[n-ni] “why are
you (pl.) pestering me?”
9. Only ezb‹ occurs in this line’s counterpart
in The Faithful Lover (i 1).
10–13. Restored from The Faithful Lover (i 2–
6). Line 11 may have ended with a version
of i 5: at-wa-a-am ma-li ‰a-ab-ta-a-ku “whatever words I own,” which otherwise finds
no place here.
14. The counterpart of the phrase sam⁄n d›rim
in The Faithful Lover has usually been read
as (i 7) sa-ki-il Ía-ri-im, following Held,
who relied on collations by Oppenheim,
Kraus, and Çıè (Held 1961: 6 “one who
hoards wind,” 1962: 37), but also as ‰⁄rim
Í⁄rim “[one who] collects empty air”
(Groneberg 2002: 168). However, the second, third, and fourth signs are damaged
and the tablet was reported to have deteriorated; von Soden read sa-ma-an du-ri-im
from the photograph, and it seems he was
right. His interpretation, which was provisional, was “Eid der Dauer” (von Soden
1950: 173). This is problematic for two reasons: (1) samnu “oath” is otherwise known
only from late literary Babylonian, and (2)
the word for “eternity” is normally in the
absolute state, d›r. Also the sense is difficult. Consequently I have adopted a different interpretation, which accords well with
the text’s misogynistic attitude in general
and with l. 16 in particular: men who do a
woman’s bidding instead of placing themselves first are no better than insects. The
A Field Full of Salt
41
42
43
44
45
you [impose(?)] (your) will like someone instructing the people.
Must I swallow a potsherd
and let the bitch go?
One who swallows a stone to let you go,
when could he have his say?
46
47
48
50
Actually, when (some one) came near [you],
like the goddess Belili you were staggering about,
dancing around in the early hours,
imposing suffering 49 on the night-owl 50 all by yourself.
sam⁄num is a pest known to have lived in
walls: sam⁄num Ía igarim “s. from a wall” is
an occasional ingredient of medical recipes
and apotropaic media (see the references
collected in CAD S 112).
15–16. Restored from The Faithful Lover (i 8).
17. The “daughter of a substitute”: a baby girl
exchanged at birth?
19. The translation assumes that lipittum is a
synonym of liptum, as elsewhere. A liptum
on the skin is a kind of birthmark or other
livid coloring. Such marks on the forehead
are noted in ll. 2–3 of the physiognomic
series fiumma liptu (ed. Böck 2000: 174). A
liptum on the right side of the forehead
predestines poverty (ilappin), an omen that
is in harmony with the prejudice displayed
in the present context.
26. s‹Óum: mischief-making in a relationship is
expressed by the cognate verb in Text No.
12: 3: l⁄ teseÓÓ¤ma “don’t cause trouble.”
30. “Fruit”: a metaphor for the body as a sex
object (see the note on Text No. 8: 10).
36. “Canal”: a metaphor for the vagina. Similar imagery occurs not only in Babylonian
incantations to aid childbirth, which
describe a baby stuck in the birth-canal in
terms of a boat waiting to be cast off from
the landing stage to float free on the river,
but also, more pertinently, in a Sumerian
love spell in which a would-be lover fan-
65
tasizes about the woman he desires lying in
bed like a “joyous canal provided with
shade” (Geller 2002: 136–37 l. 7: pa6 Óúl.la
an.dúl ak.àm).
39. The word written Óu-uk-ku-um is parsed
from Óak⁄mum “to understand”; on the II/
1 infinitive of this verb in Old Babylonian
recipes see Bottéro 1995: 32–33, who
translates “calculer, compter.” There is
probably a reference here to a well-attested metaphor for sexual intercourse, found
predominantly in Sumerian poetry but
also in Babylonian, in which the man
plows the woman’s field (Lambert 1987:
31–33, Sefati 1998: 90–93, and Text No.
12: 20–21). A field that is Óukkum is perhaps one that too many men have gotten
to know.
41. The word written TE-e-ma-am cannot supply a verb in 2nd fem. sing., so is parsed
from the noun ˇ¤mum. The main verb of
the sentence has evidently been omitted in
error. In seeking to restore it, one observes
that the line should provide a contrast with
l. 40: the woman’s behavior is in some way
inappropriate to her status as an unmarried
woman. ˇ¤mum “initiative, will” is exactly
what such a junior person could not exercise in Babylonian society. I cannot find
sense in taking Íi-ir ni-Íi as Í‹r niÍ‹ “flesh of
the people,” though it is good Babylonian
expression, attested in connection with
66
Babylonian Literary Texts
the people’s well-being and comfort (e.g.
CH i 47). Instead I have found a solution
in crasis.
42. Parsing a-la-a-AD from the verb lâˇum (I/1
pres. alâˇ) “to shackle” does not yield
sense. There is an undeniable parallel between ll. 42–43 and ll. 44–45, in which
iÍÓil‰am a-la-a-AD is the counterpart to
l⁄’im abnim “one who swallowed a stone.”
That being so, a-la-a-AD would appear to
derive from la’⁄tum, also “to swallow,” for
which it is the first Old Babylonian form
yet known. In later Babylonian this verb is
u/u class, but the present instance suggests
that in the Old Babylonian period it conjugated as an a/u-class verb.
47. Belili is the sister who mourned for
Dumuzi. The allusion of the simile of this
line may be to a lack of self-restraint that in
other circumstances is behavior typical of
mourning.
May She Throw Herself at Me! A Love Incantation
No. 11
2920
Pls. 31–32
Content
This small Old Babylonian tablet, undamaged
except for the top left corner, is inscribed on
the obverse only with sixteen lines in a single
column of text. The reverse is blank. The text
is a short poem in Akkadian that is best
described as a love spell (Liebeszauber). This is a
rare genre of Old Babylonian magic (Cunningham 1997: 111); the only other texts that certainly belong to this genre are a longer incantation now in Yale and published as YOS XI 87
(ed. van Dijk et al. 1985: 50) and the spells
assembled on a tablet excavated at Isin (Wilcke
1985, Scurlock 1989–90, Cooper 1996). The
former is spoken by a male seeking the attention of a woman. The situation is more confused in the tablet from Isin, in which male and
female subjects occur, sometimes within the
same incantation. In this matter the Yale text is
the nearer parallel, for the present text is voiced
solely by a man to a woman (referred to in the
second and third persons) and shares with it
some motifs.
Spells voiced by men seeking love are
known also from other periods, the Old Akkadian and the Neo-Assyrian (MAD V 8, ed.
Groneberg 2001; KAR 61 and 69, ed. Biggs
1967: 71–78). A further difficult example from
Boèazköy has been characterized as Liebeszauber because it is voiced by a man (KBo XXXVI
27, ed. Schwemer 2004). However, this incantation is embedded in a ritual that appears to be
therapy for male impotence and is generically
to be associated more closely with the later
Íaziga material than with spells that seek to capture a woman’s love. The subject of ancient
Mesopotamian love magic is treated by R. D.
Biggs in his contribution on Liebeszauber in the
Reallexikon der Assyriologie, and by Gwendolyn
Leick in a chapter on “Love Magic and Potency Incantations” (Biggs 1987, Leick 1994: 193–
210). The psychology of Mesopotamian Liebeszauber is examined by Mark Geller (2002).
Many ancient Mesopotamian incantations begin with a repetition, and the incipit of the
present text is restored accordingly as pitarrassi
pitarrassi, though some signs are not well written and the final si is omitted. These imperatives are masculine singular; it is uncertain who
is addressed. Nevertheless, the sense of this
incipit is clear enough: the would-be suitor
calls on some benign force to keep the object of
his desire isolated, so that she cannot fall prey to
the attentions of a rival. If I understand it correctly, the text goes on to reveal that these
words were once spoken by the Daughters of
Heaven when they were cleaning the sky, at
which time Love was spontaneously created
with the purpose of bringing the experience of
courtship and lovemaking to mankind (ll. 2–5).
These lines, which form a quatrain of regular
Babylonian poetry, thus present a little myth
concerning the creation of Love. Incantations
often relate myths that tell the origins of the
topic at hand; the generic term for such passages is historiola. The Old Akkadian love spell is
prefaced by a comparable historiola about the
origin of what seems to be the Babylonian
Cupid (OAkk. ir’emum).
The Daughters of Heaven are beings of
folklore well known from incantations, usually
benevolent and disposed to help mankind in
time of trouble (Farber 1990). Marten Stol has
suggested that the expression “might be a literary designation for clouds” (Veenhof 1996:
432), but here they seem to have the attribute
nipiÓ Íamê, which implies that they were luminous as well as celestial. Perhaps they were
identified with rays of light in the sky, i.e. sunbeams (see the note on l. 2). This would add
further meaning to the claim made for them in
an incantation against sorcery that, when visiting witches to collect their left-overs, the
Daughters of Anu of Heaven “came to light
67
68
Babylonian Literary Texts
dusk’s brazier” (Maqlû III 39: Íá li-la-a-ti Óu-lupa-qa a-na Íá-ra-pi ni-il-li-ka). If the Daughters of
Heaven were visualized as sunbeams, the incantation conjures up an image of the rays of the
sun springing from the red hues of sunset, forming a heavenly brazier in which the witches’
rubbish is rendered harmless by incineration.
The incantation was recited during a nocturnal
ritual in which the exorcist burns figurines and
materials symbolic of the sorcerer and his media
in a brazier, as described by Tzvi Abusch (1989:
348). The imagery of the Daughters of Heaven
invoked in the Maqlû incantation is thus itself a
celestial counterpart, repeated nightly, of the
ritual conducted on earth.
The following lines of the present text are a
couplet voicing the suitor’s wish that he fall
under Love’s spell and gain the opportunity to
make amorous suggestions to the girl (ll. 6–7).
What he intends to say to her is then quoted in
the form of two further couplets: he wants her
to think of him as a certain kind of snake, so that
sexual desire overcomes her like a wild cow and
she pays no attentions to the warnings of her
parents (ll. 8–11). The image of the snake is
obviously phallic. The wantonness of wild cows
is less easy to document but cows were held to
be physically pretty and sexually alluring, for it
was a beautiful cow that the moon-god found
irresistible in Babylonian folklore (Veldhuis
1991), and the lovesick suitor of a Sumerian
love spell likens the woman he desires to a cow
(Geller 2002: 136–37 ll. 3–4).1
The incantation continues with a triplet
envisaging the desired one as a woman of special status, a qadiÍtum, nad‹tum, or kezertum (ll.
12–14). A variant of this motif is used also in the
Yale incantation, in which only the first two of
these ladies appear, but in exactly parallel
expressions:
‚ÍumŸ-ma qá-áÍ-‚daŸ-at li-im-qú-‚ut daŸ-du-Ía-a
‚ÍumŸ-ma na-di-a-‚atŸ mu-pí-ir-Ía li-im-qú-ut
YOS XI 87 7–10
1
Jens Braarvig reminds me that Homer knew
Hera as bo-ôpis “cow-eyed,” evidently an epithet signifying attractiveness.
If she is a hierodule, may her darling perish,
if she is a cloister-lady, may the one who provides for her2 perish!
These three classes of women had in common
that they could own property and conduct their
own business. What the would-be lover appears
to envisage is that, conquered by love for him,
each would surrender her position and, with it,
her independence. Thus the kezretum would
close her business and devote herself to him (l.
14). It is unclear exactly what is meant by the
qadiÍtum’s imdum (l. 12) and the nad‹tum’s biblum
(l. 13), especially with the verbs lost in the break
at the lines’ end. A biblum is a gift of the kind
usually taken by a groom to his prospective
father-in-law. The parents of a nad‹tum received
one from the cloister (gagûm) when she entered
it (Harris 1964: 109); if so, the suitor will wish
that she surrender it, as a symbol of her desertion of her position. Likewise, the qadiÍtum’s
imdum might refer to whatever means allowed
her independence, in this case income for services rendered: these women are known to
have acted as wet-nurses and midwives. Alternatively one may consider that biblum and
imdum could be euphemisms for sexual favors,
and that the missing verbs convey not the
notion of “abandon for me” but instead “surrender to me.”
The incantation is concluded by a standard
assertion in prose that the spell is the work not
of a mere man but of a higher authority, in this
case Ea, god of magic, and IÍtar, goddess of love
(ll. 15–16).
2
Previous commentators have read mubbirÍa
“her accuser” but this sits ill with d⁄dum in
the parallel line and with the understanding
of the line brought to the text by the spell
published here, which shows that nadi’at is
not a “fallen woman” but the well-known
nad‹tum. I parse mu-pí-ir-Ía from ep¤rum “to
provision” (not previously found in the II/1
stem) and presume that muppirum refers to a
man who looked after the nad‹tum’s needs,
whom the would-be suitor understandably
wishes out of the way.
May She Throw Herself at Me!
Aspects of Language and Writing
The language and orthography of the tablet call
for little comment. Mimation is lacking on two
occasions: aÍ-nu-ga-a-li (l. 8), hardly plural; and
ia-tu (15). Geminated consonants are usually
written plene; lu-ta-wu-ú and lu-ra-Ói-im (7) are
necessarily defective, but note also Óu-us-sí-ni-ima (8), aÍ-ta-ma-Ía (14), ia-tu (15) and, with preceding vowel written plene, aÍ-nu-ga-a-li (8).
The Auslaut of verb forms from finally weak
roots is spelled inconsistently: compare i-ba-aÍ-Íi
(5), lu-ud-di and lu-uq-bi (7) with lu-ta-wu-ú (7)
and te-el-qé-e (11). Spelling conventions are
mixed: the syllable /si/ is written with si (l. 1) in
the environment /ssi/ < /s/+Íi, but elsewhere
sí: Óu-us-sí-ni (8); these are southern conventions. By contrast, /pi/ is written northernstyle, with pí: pí-ta-ar-ra-as (1), ni-pí-iÓ (2).
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
[pí-ta-ar-r]a!-as-si pí-ta-ar-ra-as!-<si>
[ma-r]a-at a-ni-im ni-pí-iÓ Ía-me-e
[ki-a]-am ú-ul-li-la-a-ma 4 [Í]a-me-e Ía anim(an.na)
i-ba-aÍ-Íi ra-mu-um e-li ni-Íi i-‚Óa!Ÿ-ap-pu-up
ra-mu-um li-iÓ-pu-pa-am i-na ‚‰eŸ-ri-‚iaŸ
lu-ud-di lu-uq-bi lu-ta-wu-ú ‚lu-raŸ-Ói-im
Óu-us-sí-ni-i-ma ki-ma aÍ-nu-ga-‚aŸ-li
li-iÓ-Íu-‚ÍuŸ pa-nu-ki!(tablet: KU) ki-ma ri-im-ti-i[m]
e tu-uÍ-bi a-na mi-li-ik a-bi-‚kiŸ
e te-el-qé-e mi-li-ik um-mi-k[i]
Íum-ma qá-aÍ-da-‚atŸ im-da-Ía l[i-x x]
Íum-ma na-di-a-‚atŸ bi-bi-il-Ía l[i-x x]
Íum-ma ‚keŸ-ez-re-et li-qá-ab-bi-ir
aÍ-ta-ma-Ía e-li-ia li-im-qú-u[t]
15 Íi-i[p-t]um ú-ul ia-tu
16 Íi-‚pa-atŸ é-a ù diÍtar(inanna) iÍ-ku-nu
rev. not inscribed
1
2
3
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
69
TRANSLATION
“[Keep] her apart, keep [her] apart!”
[The] daughters of Anum, the lights of the sky,
thus did purify 4 the heavens of Anum,
while Love came into being to make love to the people.
May Love make love to me also,
so I can cast (this spell), speak, talk, flirt (with her):
“Think of me as an aÍnugallum-snake,
so your mood grows wanton as a wild cow!
Do not wait on your father’s counsel,
do not heed your mother’s advice!”
If she is a hierodule may she [ . . . ] her “support,”
if she is a cloister-lady may she [ . . . ] her “gift,”
if she is a harlot may she wind up her brothel, may she throw herself at me!
The incantation is not mine, 16 it is an incantation that Ea and IÍtar provided.
70
Babylonian Literary Texts
NOTES
2. In connection to celestial bodies the word
nipÓum is usually translated “rising” or the
like, but its root clearly shows that what is
at issue is not movement over the horizon
but the bursting forth of light that accompanies that movement (cf. nap⁄Óum “to
kindle,” nanpuÓum “to flare up”). The translation offered here is made in the light of
the equation of ni-ip-Óu with Íá-ru-ru
“beams of light” in the synonym list An IX
9. The phrase nipiÓ Íamê might at first sight
look like the object of ullil⁄ma, but that
would leave Íamê Ía Anim in l. 4 marooned.
For that reason I take it as an attribute of
m⁄r⁄t Anim in apposition.
5. The verb at the end of the line (and in l. 6)
is certainly the one usually booked as
Óab⁄bum, which is also construed with eli in
GilgameÍ (OB II 34, SB I 186 etc.). Another example of the variant Óap⁄pum may
occur in Maqlû III 107: at-ti-e Íá tu-Óap-pipi-in-ni “you (witch), who made love to
me”; for the II/1 stem with direct object
see the Íaziga-incantation KAR 70: 46–47
(ed. Biggs 1967: 31): Óu-ub-bi-ban-ni . . . ritka-ban-ni “make love to me . . . mount
me!”
9. The expression liÓÍuÍ› p⁄n›ki means literally “may your face light up with lust.”
The tablet of love spells from Isin provides
a close parallel in a context of physical love,
IB 1554: 33–34: li-iÓ-du-ú li-ib-bu-ú-ki li-iÓÍu-Ía ka-ab-ta-ta-ki “let your heart grow
glad, your mood randy” (ed. Wilcke 1985:
200). The equation of ÓaÍ⁄Íum with Sum.
Ói.li “sexual allure” in Nabn‹tu IV 240 renders explicit this verb’s connection with
sexual desire.
14. The verb qubburum, literally “to bury,” is
also used to signify rolling up in cloth prior
to burial. By extension, it came to describe
an activity that occurred when breaking
camp, as seen from a Standard Babylonian
incantation against LamaÍtu in which this
demon is adjured to depart as if taking
down her tent (IV R2 56 iii 47): us-Ói
giÍ
sikk⁄ti(gag)meÍ-ki qu-ub-bi-ri qé-e-ki “Pull
out your pegs, roll up your cords!” Probably the pegs and cords were rolled up in the
tent’s fabric, like a body in a winding sheet
or shroud. The first of the two verbs in this
line, nas⁄Óum “to uproot,” can be used by
itself in Old Babylonian as an idiom denoting a person’s removal from a place (e.g.
the letter TCL XVII 60: 7: ús-Óa-am-ma atla-kam “up sticks and get moving”). The
present instance of qubburum, with aÍtammum “alehouse, brothel” as object, makes
sense only if this verb can be used similarly
and, therefore, I take it as an idiom for
closing down a house and moving out.
15–16. The formula Íiptum ul yattum Íipat DN (u
DN etc.) is standard. For its use in Old
Babylonian incantations see Cunningham
1997: 119–20; more generally see the references collected in CAD fi/3: 88 b 1. In
discussing the formula’s distribution as
known forty years ago, Robert Biggs noted that the formula occurred “only in texts
for exorcising demons” (Biggs 1967: 39).
That is certainly not the case here, where
the speaker of the spell seeks not to be free
of his lovesickness, but to win the attention
of the object of his desire.
In the Light of the Window
Incipits of Love Songs and Other Poems?
No. 12
3391
Pls. 33–36
of incipits. The first line continues the theme of
the preceding nine and uses explicitly sexual
language (10). The second alludes to Adad as
the divine gugallum (11). The third continues
on to a second line and refers to wild animals in
what may be a proverbial saying or metaphor
(12–13). The remainder is perhaps also one
incipit of unidentified genre, likewise spread
over two lines (13–14).
The third and fourth sections present
increasing difficulty for the decipherer and are
presented here in a highly provisional transliteration. While erotic language occurs occasionally (19, 20–21), the rest of the text is not
obviously love-related; these sections are perhaps proverbs, riddles, or other sayings.
This slightly misshapen tablet is complete but
for its lower left-hand corner. It is inscribed in
ruled lines on the obverse and upper threefifths of the reverse. The thirty-seven lines of
text are punctuated with three double rulings at
irregular intervals and terminated with another
double ruling. The script is a clumsy but unremarkable Old Babylonian hand.
Content
The tablet contains text of a highly unusual
kind. The first nine lines are love poetry, partly
in the male voice, partly in the female. The language of these opening nine lines varies from
tender lyricism to explicit eroticism. Although
some lines may belong together, the passage as
a whole is beset with semantic inconsequences
and does not work as a dialogue. Language and
content both suggest a succession of independent statements. Accordingly I suggest that
these lines present incipits of love poems, most
of them in single lines, others perhaps in couplets (ll. 1–2, 8–9?). Tablets that collect incipits
of poems, including love poetry, are known
from later periods. A small piece of Middle or
early Neo-Babylonian date collects the first
two lines of six cultic love songs (Finkel 1988).
A large Middle Assyrian tablet from AÍÍur,
published as KAR 158 and first edited by Erich
Ebeling (1922), once held the incipits of some
four hundred compositions in Sumerian and
Akkadian, including much Babylonian love
poetry (see further Black 1983: 25–29, Limet
1996, Nissinen 2001: 121–23, Groneberg 2003,
Klein and Sefati 2008: 619–22).
A second section of five lines is marked off
by rulings. This passage also makes no sense as
connected text and is probably also a collection
Aspects of Language and Writing
There are two, possibly three, examples of proclitic prepositions: in-n›r (l. 6), ab-bunti (8), ikk‹da? (36); the last follows an unusual apocopated dative suffix, attad‹Í (36), and the decipherment of both words is not secure. A possible
example of crasis is bi-ti-e-mi-ka (22) for b‹t
em‹ka. Contraction of /i’a/ to /â/ occurs three
times: iÍ-Ía-a (15), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18) and wa-‰a-at
(34), against uncontracted pe-te-at (20), x-di-at
(27) and wa-‰i-at (35).
Mimation is often lacking: a-bu-un-ti (8),
gu-ga-al-la (11), sa-mu-tu (12), iÍ-Ía-a (15), naap-Ía-ri (16), qá-at-nu-ti (17), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18), li‰ú-ni (22), ka-lu-ú (30), Ía-Ói-tu (31), i-Ía-tu (32),
e-re-nu (33), mu-‰i-i (37). Geminated consonants are more often written plene – iz-zi-iz-zi
(1), Íum-ma a‰-‰a-la-al di-ke-en-ni at-ti (2), ak-kuuÍ (3), mu-ta-al-li-ik-ti (4), lu-up-pa-al-sà-ak-ka
(6), ra-mi-im-ma (7), ar-ra-ak, i‰-‰é-he-ra-ka (9),
gu-ga-al-la (11), iz-za-az-ma (12), iÍ-Ía-a (15),
71
Babylonian Literary Texts
72
lu-pí-iÍ-Íi (16), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18), az-za-az (25),
te-el-li (28), mu-uÓ-Ói (34, 35), at-ta-di-iÍ (36) –
than defectively: te-sé-Óe-e-ma (3), mu-ta-al-li-ikti ta-ta-la-ak a-la-la-ni (4), te-te-bé-e-ma (5), a-buun-ti (8), i‰-‰é-he-ra-ka (9), i-Ía-ka-an (15), e-reÍa-Íi-na (20), e-re-Íi-Ía (21), ra-qá-at (26), tu-ra-ad
(28), a-nu-um (33), na-ba?-sú (34), lu-qú-sú (35).
The syllable /sV/ is usually spelled with
signs from the /ZV/ range: te-sé-Óe-e-ma (3), luup-pa-al-sà-ak-ka (6), sí-sí-im (28), na-ba?-sú (34),
lu-qú-sú (35); differently sa-mu-tu (12), because
from 3s’m (Westenholz 2006: 254). The syllable
/pi/ is spelled pi: di-pi-ir (3), but also pí: lu-pí-iÍ-
Íi (16), if correctly deciphered; /ˇu/ is spelled
with DU: ˇù-li-ma-am (16).
A broken orthography occurs in a-na-iÍ-Íaa (18) for anaÍÍâ. Other unusual spellings are ú
(28) for the conjunction u (but ù in l. 18), and ul
(12, 21) for the negative particle ul, normally úul (24, 25). Such inconsistencies of spelling may
be a further indication that the text inscribed on
this tablet is a compilation of material from a
variety of sources, but that does not explain the
presence of both wa-‰a-at and wa-‰i-at in ll. 34–
35, which are clearly parts of a single passage.
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
rev.
23
24
25
26
27
28
‚iŸ-na nu-úr a-pa-‚ti-imŸ iz-zi-iz-z[i]
Íum-ma a‰-‰a-la-al ‚diŸ-ke-en-ni ‚at-tiŸ
ak-ku-uÍ di-pi-ir la te-sé-Óe-e-ma
mu-ta-‚alŸ-li-‚ik-tiŸ ta-ta-la-ak a-la-la-ni
ra-bu-um ra-bu-‚umŸ la te-te-bé-e-ma
lu-up-pa-al-sà-‚akŸ-ka in nu-‚úrŸ a-pa-ti-im
i nu-‚uÍ-taŸ-aq-ti ‚ne!-pi-iÍ!Ÿ-tu ra-mi-im-ma
a-bu-un-ti lu-uÍ-tu-uÓ-m[a]
ar-ra-ak Ía? pi-ri-im i‰-‰é-Óe-ra-{am (ras.?)}-k[a]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------i ni-iq/g-ri ki-‰a/sà-al-l[a] ‚úŸ-ra-Ía ‚maŸ-aÍ-Óa-at
gu-ga-al-la i-la-am Ía-‚al-ma?Ÿ i-lam ‚x-Ía?Ÿ-a-‚niŸ
ri-mu-um ul {ras.} iz-za-az-ma ar-mu-ú ‚saŸ-mu-tu
li-‰ú?-ni-im? {ras.} i-im-ta-Íu-uÓ? x x x
iÍ-‚kuŸ-un-ma i-qá-al
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------iÍ-Ía-a a-bu-ba-am i-Ía-‚kaŸ-an mi-na-am
lu-pí-iÍ-Íi a!-a!-[r]a-am ˇù-li-ma-am p‹(ka) na-ap-Ía-ri
ka-bu-ut al-pi-im Íe-er-a-ni qá-at-nu-ti
pa-at-ra-am ù me-Íi-il-ta-am a-na-iÍ-Ía-a {a}
lu-x x ti ri ri a-Óa-at a-bi-ki! lu-ni-ik
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[wa-a]-‚‰iŸ-at pe-te-at Íi-na e-re-Ía-Íi-na
[x x ]x x a-na Ía-ni-im e-re-Íi-Ía ul r¤’ûm(sipa)
[x x x ]x li-‰ú-ni a-na! bi-ti e-mi-ka / x x-ra-Íu-nu x x
[x x x] ni x[ . . . . . . ]x-kum ‚ub?Ÿ-lu
a-n[a wa?]-ar-du-‚ú-tim? úŸ-ul a-ba-a[Í]-‚kaŸ
‚ú-ulŸ az-za-az ma-Óa-ar ib-ri-‚iaŸ
‚iŸ-ir-ti ra-qá-‚atŸ i-na-a pu-‰a-‚tum maŸ-li-I°
[na?]-di-at ú-ba-ni ‰e-Óe-er-tum pe-er-x
sí?-sí-im te-el-li ú tu-ra-ad
In the Light of the Window
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
73
TRANSLATION
Stand (fem. sg.) in the light of the window!
If I go to sleep, wake (fem. sg.) me up!
I am going, be off (masc. sg.), don’t cause trouble!
My restless girl takes herself off like a hoopoe.
O big one, big one (masc.), do not arise!
Let me gaze on you (masc. sg.) by the light of the window!
Let us perform to its end the act(?) of love!
Let me grow long for the girl!
It is so long, an elephant’s seems smaller than yours!
10
11
12
13
14
Let us . . . , she is plundered as to her vulva.
Ask the canal-inspector god and . . . me the god.
The wild bull is not present, so let the red gazelles
come forth! He has robbed . . . .
He placed, keeping silent.
15
16
17
18
19
He brought the Deluge, achieving what?
I shall deck her out with flowers(?): spleen, the mouth of the gullet,
ox’s dung, thin sinews!
I am picking up knife and blade.
[ . . . ] . . . I wish to have sex with your aunt!
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
She is promiscuous, she is open: two are the men that “plow” them (fem.).
[ . . . ] . . . to the second of her plowmen, “(Are you) not a shepherd?”
[ . . . ] may they come out, to your (masc. sg.) father-in-law’s house, their (masc.) . . .
[ . . . ] . . . [ . . . ] to you they brought(?).
By slavery(?) I shall not shame myself in your eyes,
I shall not wait on my friend.
My chest is undeveloped, my eyes are full of flecks.
My little finger is [bent(?)] down: the mane(?)
of a horse(?), she goes up and down.
74
Babylonian Literary Texts
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
a-‚naŸ [d]a-ar Ía-na-tim da-ar ‚er-béŸ-et ‚Ía?Ÿ-ar
‚ùŸ Óa-am-Íi-‚iÍ?Ÿ lu?-‰í-ku-‚um kaŸ-lu-ú
né-‚meŸ-lum Ía ‚⁄li(uru)ki?Ÿ-ka iÍ-qí?-ka Ía-Ói-tu
x-di-x-ka i-Ía-tu li-ku-ul
Íar(lugal) m⁄tim(kalam) ‚aŸ-nu-um ki? ˇa-ab e-re-nu
‚iŸ-na mu-uÓ-Ói ‚e-reŸ-ni-im na-ba?-sú wa-‰a-at
i-na mu-uÓ-Ói na-ba-ki lu-qú-‚sú wa-‰iŸ-at
iÍ-Ía-al la ZU-da e-er-Ía at-ta-di-iÍ ik!-‚kiŸ-da
wa-‰e-e mu-‰i-i iÍ-Ía-al la ZU-da
NOTES
1. Windows are not in great supply in traditional Mesopotamian houses, so a-pa-tim
here and in l. 6 is taken as singular aptim
modified by a superfluous epenthetic vowel, rather than as plural ap⁄tim. The expression n›r apatim recurs in l. 6, and also in the
OB lament to IÍtar (Groneberg 1997: 223 l.
81, with Streck 2003b: 309): ki-ma nu-ur apa-ti-im “like light shining through a window.”
3. The imperative dipir is an example of the
I/1 stem of a verb normally found in the
II/1 stem, duppurum.
4. The word allall⁄ni adds a further comparative example to the small number of Old
Babylonian adverbs formed with -⁄ni. On
these see Farber 1982, who documents
gall⁄ni “like a g.-demon,” r‹m⁄ni “like a
wild bull,” kalb⁄ni “like a dog,” and till⁄ni
“like a ruin-mound,” all comparative, and
also distributive miÍl⁄ni “in halves”; others
adverbs so formed, also not comparative,
are w¤d⁄ni “alone” in OB GilgameÍ IM 6
(ed. George 2003: 270) and ap⁄ni “by the
window” in the incantation YOS XI 19: 13
(ed. van Dijk et al. 1985: 25).
7. The decipherment of the penultimate
word is highly provisional; it presumes a
construct state bearing the literary ending
-u.
8. The word written a-bu-un-ti is understood
as ab-bunti(m), i.e. buntum “daughter” with
proclitic preposition. The word buntum is
hitherto known only in an Old Assyrian
9.
11.
12.
15.
incantation (BIN IV 126: 5, ed. von Soden
1956: 142), but later Babylonian possesses
both bunatu and its variant bintu. Also in
favor of allowing buntum in this Old Babylonian incipit is the fact that kinship terms
such as m⁄rum “son” and m⁄rtum “daughter” are routinely used of the beloved in
Babylonian love poetry (for m⁄rum so used
see Text No. 9: 4; for m⁄rtum see No. 8: 1).
In this line, which seems to be the woman’s reaction to the proposition put forward in l. 8, the verb is taken as IV/1 stem
with ingressive meaning. Elephants occur
in bilingual proverbs of the Old Babylonian period that report their ability to crush
poplars underfoot like leeks and to defecate
on a grand scale (Alster 1997: 289 obv. 2;
121: 5.1). The present line suggests that the
Babylonians held the elephant’s sex organ
in much the same awe as the English language does the equid’s.
The divine gugallum is Adad, whose most
common epithet in this function is kù-gál
(gú-gal) an-ki-a // gugal Íamê u er‰eti
“canal-inspector of heaven and underworld” (Schwemer 2001: 701, 708).
The erased sign is ka.
This seems to be a saying that questions the
wisdom of overwhelming force. The subject is presumably Enlil, whose rashness in
sending the flood that wiped out humankind was pointed out in turn by B¤let-il‹
and Ea (SB GilgameÍ XI 168–71, 183–95).
In the Light of the Window
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
75
For an eternity of years, an eternity: four myriad(?).
And a fifth time I will go out to you (masc. sg.): a cult-singer.
The profit of your city(?): a sow gave you a drink.
May fire consume your . . . !
The king of the land is this! How sweet is cedar-incense!
On top of the cedar-incense his . . . is protruding,
on top of . . . his . . . is protruding.
. . . . . . I have set down for him/her a bed outside(?),
passing through the way out . . . . . .
16. With reservation, I take lu-bi-iÍ-Íi as luppiÍÍi
(ep¤Íum II/1 voluntative); for uppuÍum used
of attire, etc., see SB GilgameÍ I 106 uppuÍ
p¤retu “he was adorned with tresses.” Alternately, lu-bi-iÍ Íi-a-a-ra-am “I will put the
dawn(?) to shame.”
20. Plowing is a well-known metaphor for
sexual intercourse in ancient Mesopotamian love poetry, as already noted sub Text
No. 10: 39. The word err¤Í⁄Íina is dual and
implies an orgiastic scenario.
26. After ‹n⁄ya the text seems to be corrupt;
the situation is recovered by correction to
pu‰âtim mali’⁄.
34–35. Or pe-‰a-at and pe-‰i-at “is white.” luqú-sú is possibly from luq›tum “merchandise,” a word hitherto attested only in Old
Assyrian.
36. If at-ta-di-iÍ is correctly parsed, it is an
exceptional example of an apocopated
dative suffix, for attadi+Íum/Íim; the instance adduced by von Soden in Samsuiluna’s hymn to Nanay (VAS X 215 obv.
21, ed. von Soden 1938: 32–33: iˇ-Ói-iÍ “es
kam an sie heran”) and reported in GAG
§42h n. 11, has since been corrected to the
adverb ‰ú-Ói-iÍ (Wasserman 1992). The last
word seems to be a combination of proclitic preposition and adverb, from ina k‹da;
the same construction occurs in the common ina p⁄na “formerly.”
A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus
No. 13
2698/3
This is a small tablet whose lower part is broken
away. A peculiarity of the text is that it is
inscribed so that most of the nine lines extant
on the obverse run over the right edge and
onto the reverse of the tablet, leaving no room
there for any more text. The concluding two
lines of the composition are found on the tablet’s top edge. The curvature of the tablet suggests that it was created in landscape or square
format, so probably only a few lines are lost at
the bottom of the obverse.
text is the use of an esoteric spelling in the first
line, where the common noun sinniÍtum
“woman,” referring to the goddess, is written
in a way that breaks it into Sîn “the moon-god”
and n¤Ítum “lioness.” Sîn was IÍtar’s father and
the lion was her animal. The spelling effectively characterizes the goddess as the “Moon lioness.” It is an early example of speculative
etymologizing as a tool for revealing the characteristics immanent in a divine personality, a
technique that was much used in later Babylonian scholarship.
Aside from the first word, the spelling is
largely unremarkable. Mimation is always present. Defective spelling of double consonants
occurs with the adjective ellum (ll. 3, 7 and 9),
in the two examples of a proclitic preposition:
iÍ-Í⁄t (2), ip-par‰‹ (6), and otherwise in wa-li-ti-ki
(7) and Óa-ma-ta (2'), if for Óammat. Two
instances occur of plene writing of final vowels
of verbs from finally weak roots: i-ta-wu-ú (1)
and [ip-pa-a]r-ku-ú (2), if correctly parsed as singular governed by sinniÍtum. The syllable /ip/ is
otherwise written with the sign íp: íp-ta-aÍ-ru-ú
(3), a throwback to the third millennium; but
the syllable /ib/ is written ib: li-ib-bi-Íu-nu (3),
li-ib-bi-im (7). If correctly read, there is one
instance of crasis: mu-di-Íi-eq-li-im (8) for mudîÍeqlim; but reservations attend this (and much
else) in the present edition.
Context
The text is a short Old Babylonian prayer to a
goddess who is observed in the night sky. No
doubt this is IÍtar in her manifestation as the
planet Venus, and the attributes invoked in the
prayer fully suit this great goddess. As understood here, the supplicant prays that she appear
in the night (ll. 1–3), lauds her as the most
exalted of the divine race, controlling the cosmic ordinances (4–7), and calls on harvestworkers to sing her praise (8–9). After a short
break, the prayer finishes with another acknowledgment of the goddess’s pre-eminence
and power (1'–2').
Aspects of Language and Writing
The language of the prayer is literary Old
Babylonian prose. An unusual feature of the
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Pl. 37
TRANSLITERATION
[ s]în(suen)-ni-iÍ-tu-um Íi-i it-ti m[u-ti-Ía? la] da-am-qí-iÍ a-a ‚iŸ-[t]a-wu-ú
i-Ía-a-at mu-Íi-ti-im a-a [íp-pa-a]r?-ku-ú
mi-im-ma e-la-am Ía li-‚ib-bi-ÍuŸ-nu a-a íp-ta-aÍ-ru-ú
ti-iz-qá-ar-tum ma-ra-at dsîn(suen) ra-bi-tum
be-el-tum Ía e-ni-im Íu-tu-ra-at ma-an-nu-um it-ti-ki i-ta-ma-[a]r
i-pa-ar-‰í ki-nu-tim b¤ltum(nin) ra-bi-at be-li ‚kiŸ be-le-ti
‚iÍŸ-tu li-ib-bi-im e-‚li-imŸ [x x x ]x e-li um-mi-im wa-li-ti-ki Íu-tu-ra-at
d
76
A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus
8
9
77
mu-di-{ud}-Íi!-eq-li-im x[ . . . ]
[x x x x] x x [ . . . . . . ] ‚eŸ-lu-tim li-za-a[m-me-ru]
gap
top edge
1' el-tum ki-it-tum Ía pa-ar-‰í!
2' Íu-tu-ra-at ra-bi-iÍ Óa-ma-ta! / ‰í-ru-[tim]
TRANSLATION
1 A woman is she! May she not talk [un]favorably with [her] husband(?)!
2 May she not fail (to appear) in the course of the night!
3 May they not disclose to each other whatever is pure in their hearts!
4 O exalted lady, senior daughter of the moon,
5 who possesses an en-priest, you are surpassing, who could be seen with you?
6 By means of the true ordinances a mistress, great among lords, how you are mistress!
7 With a pure heart [you . . . ,] you surpass the mother who bore you!
8 Those that thresh(?) the field [ . . . ]
9 [ . . . . . . ] may [they] sing [your] sacred [ . . . ]
short gap
1' True goddess of the ordinances,
2' you are greatly surpassing, mistress of supremacy.
NOTES
1. It is not uncommon for goddesses to attract
the epithet sinniÍtum “woman, female”; so
Gula’s self-invocation in Bullussa-rabi’s
hymn (Lambert 1967: 116 l. 3: sin-niÍ-Íá-ku
“I am a woman”), and Ningal in a Seleucid-period copy of a ritual performed at
Uruk during a lunar eclipse (BRM IV 6: 3':
d
nin-gal sin-niÍ-tum, ed. Linssen 2004: 306).
IÍtar is so described in the great astrological
series En›ma Anu Ellil, which notes that
Venus observed in the east (as the morning
star) was considered female (lit. sin-ni-Íat “a
woman”) and a good omen, but seen in the
west (as the evening star) was male and illboding (EAE LXI = CTN IV 15 ii 16' and
dupls.). Another tradition upheld the
reverse (see Reiner 1995: 6, Koch-Westenholz 1995: 125). In the present text sin-
niÍtum is probably an early reference to one
or other of these traditions. The restoration
of mutum is suggested by the motif, much
used in prayers to goddesses, of the wife
who intercedes with her husband on behalf
of the supplicant. The motif is given a twist
here, for IÍtar had no husband in the society of gods: her mutum was the mortal ruler
who filled the office of en (l. 5) at one of
her cult-centers.
7. Because of the 2 fem. sg. suffix on w⁄litt‹ki,
Í›tur⁄t must here be the abbreviated form
of the 2 fem. sg. stative, -⁄t(i).
2'. Here Íu-tu-ra-at may be second or third
person. The spelling Óa-ma-ta is understood to signify construct state Óammat; in
the first millennium Óammatu was a common epithet of IÍtar.
The Scholars of Uruk
No. 14
2624
Pls. 38–43
epithet is most easily explained as an allusion to
the tradition that Uruk was the home town of
Ur-Namma and his family. In evoking the
memory of the kings of this dynasty, the author
of the text connected his work to the period
when fiulgi established the é.dub.ba.a, the
academies that became influential centers of
Sumerian learning. The intellectual bond that
Old Babylonian scholars felt for fiulgi’s time as
a “golden age” of Sumerian scholarship is visible everywhere in the eighteenth-century
scribal curriculum, not least in the several compositions whose setting is the school, which are
now called Edubba-literature.
Contrasted with the city’s noble rank is the
behavior of the addressee, whom the speaker
accuses of pilfering from the “household of my
lord” and squandering “my lady’s property,” a
crime that leaves the speaker feeling personally
humiliated (2–5). The metaphor he uses to
express his humiliation, “slapped with my own
palm,” is fully appropriate because the wrongdoer will turn out to be the speaker’s own son.
The son’s wrongdoing is never again referred
to in terms of the theft of property. Hereafter
the miscreant is characterized as a poor scholar:
dim-witted, slow to learn, and not as clever as
the speaker. Probably the accusation of pilfering and squandering is a metaphor, and the
son’s guilt lies in his failure to do justice to his
education. “My lord” and “my lady” would
then be the patron deities of scribes, Ea and
Nissaba, who are prominent later in the text.
Their property is scribal learning, and the son’s
crime would be to have misused that learning.
The speaker continues by calling the son a
“piglet,” not a term of affection, and asserting
that he can have no answer to the accusation
(6–7). Nevertheless, the speaker enjoins him to
abandon abusive language, to put the quarrel
This single-column tablet is a fine specimen of
the scribal art. One hundred and twenty-seven
lines of text in Old Babylonian cuneiform are
squeezed onto a little tablet no more than
twenty centimeters long. The script is tiny.
Some of the signs that run over onto the right
edge are no more than 1.5 mm tall.
The text inscribed on the tablet is equally
remarkable. It is a bilingual composition in
Sumerian and Akkadian, but like no other
bilingual text hitherto published. The text is set
out in a conventional interlinear format, with
Akkadian written beneath the Sumerian in
lines slightly indented from the left-hand margin. However, the Sumerian is not the language as we know it. It is a heavily artificial
construction, bearing little relation to the conventional Sumerian of any period. Study of it
quickly shows that the composition of this
Sumerian is an exercise in arcane learning,
using rare and obscure words culled from academic lists, and a frequently morphemic presentation of Sumerian words that is alien to the
grammar of that language. While not entirely
untainted by error, the Akkadian lines employ
good Babylonian, and it is evident that the
Akkadian was composed first, and used as the
basis for translation into Sumerian. Accordingly, this composition takes its place in this volume as a Babylonian literary text.
Content
The composition is a monologue in which a
learned scribe at first harangues and then offers
reconciliation to another scribe with whom he
has had a quarrel. It is not immediately evident
but later becomes clear that the monologue is
an address by a father to his errant son.
The diatribe begins with an evocation of
the city of Uruk as “the city of kings” (1). This
78
The Scholars of Uruk
behind them and look forward to a future in
which their former good relationship is restored, even though anger has not yet subsided
(8–14). The gods Sîn and Enlil are enjoined to
establish and maintain this new relationship
(15–16). They are chosen because, as the text
reveals later, they are a divine paradigm of
father and son who quarrel and make up.
Next the speaker compares his addressee’s
slowness in learning to master writing and
scribal lore with his own adeptness (17–20).
The image of the piglet is used again here, this
time as an animal that “sucks its own teats,” a
figure that conveys self-centeredness or selfabsorption, and the son is enjoined to mend his
ways (21–22). Then comes an invocation to
Nissaba, the patron goddess of writing, and an
injunction to honor her name (23–26).
There follows a parable. Ur and Nippur
were quarrelling, and the quarrel was about
knowledge (27–28). No doubt this knowledge
was scribal lore, and the dispute centered
around which scribes were more learned, those
of Ur or those of Nippur. We recall that precisely these two cities were chosen by fiulgi of
Ur as locations for his scribal academies, according to one of the hymns that honored this king
(fiulgi B 308–15, see George 2005: 132–33).
The purpose of these academies was to perpetuate Sumerian learning, particularly compositions in praise of fiulgi. They do not seem to
have survived as institutions into the Old Babylonian period, but it is fully imaginable that the
scribal traditions of the two cities continued to
recognize them as rival centers of excellence.
Rivalry between centers of learning was a feature of ancient Mesopotamian intellectual life.
The Sumerian curriculum of Old Babylonian
Nippur extolled the academy of Nippur above
all others, as we learn from the fictive letter of
Nabi-Enlil (Civil 2000: 106–7). The later tale of
Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite reveals how students of Nippur enjoyed exposing the linguistic
ineptitude of a learned doctor from nearby Isin
(George 1993b).
The quarrel between Ur and Nippur had
erupted into vitriol, which the wind communicated to the gods of the two cities, Sîn in Ur and
his father, Enlil, in Nippur (28–30). Sîn realizes
79
that what has been said will infuriate his parents
and goes to see them like a dutiful son, intending to calm their minds (31–34); this point is
given heavy emphasis, for filial deference is dear
to the writer’s heart. At this juncture damage to
the text makes it difficult to follow. The interpretation adopted here is that somehow Sîn
inadvertently angers his father, they quarrel in a
way that mirrors the dispute between Ur and
Nippur (35), and then a third party intervenes.
The intervention takes the form of a line of
narrative and four of direct speech by the third
party, a passage that is heavily damaged and still
more difficult to interpret (36–40). The speaker
is masculine or feminine, while his (or her)
interlocutor is masculine, addressed in the second person but also referred to as “his father”
(39). The speaker points out that the latter
chose the “beloved son” for some purpose, and
gave him two parts “of everything” as his lot.
The gift of two parts is an allusion to a standard
practice in Old Babylonian inheritance, according to which the nominated heir (aplum) received a double share of the paternal estate and
the remaining sons single shares (Klima 1940:
29–30, Kraus 1969: 12). It is thus clear that (a)
the “beloved son” is Sîn of Ur and (b) the interlocutor, “his father,” is Enlil of Nippur. We
learn later that a goddess, probably Nissaba, was
instrumental in bringing about a reconciliation
between them (61–62). Consequently I propose that the speaker of these lines is that goddess. It is appropriate that a goddess should
intervene in a family argument because intercession was a female role. Nissaba is a suitable
figure because she was a senior member of
Enlil’s household in the Ekur, most commonly
identified as his mother-in-law and Sîn’s maternal grandmother (Michalowski 2001). But her
special authority in scribal matters is also an
issue here. We later learn that Enlil taught Sîn
scribal lore (60), and thus that the quarrel
between them is a doublet of the quarrel
between the text’s voice and his son. The text
exalts the role of Nissaba, the divine patron of
the scribal arts, in settling scholars’ arguments.
More than this, her expertise is necessary for
any arbitration between hostile parties, for it
80
Babylonian Literary Texts
engenders in the literate the skills of wise counsel and informed debate.
At l. 41 the text introduces the topic of forgiveness, and the voice of the lines compares his
or her own compassion for the person addressed
to the compassion he or she has previously
experienced from Ea (41–43). This is unlikely
still to be Nissaba talking, for the text seems to
have reverted to present time, and the father
addressing his errant son, with whom he seeks
reconciliation on a par with the kindness shown
to him by the god who has overall charge of
human intellectual endeavor. On this assumption we can observe that the father adduced the
parable of Sîn and Enlil as an example of how
Nissaba resolved a quarrel between Nippur and
Ur, by recalling the different roles allocated to
them: Enlil’s seniority and prior entitlement to
power, and Sîn’s expectations as heir apparent.
This story provides a model for the resolution of
the father’s quarrel with his son: the goddess of
scribal lore will bring reconciliation, but the son
must first recognize his father’s prior claim to
power and superior wisdom.
Ea is soon cited in a typical role, as civilizer
of mankind. The father tells his son a second
story: how Ea sent “wisdom” to their city,
Uruk, through the agency of a “learned sage”
who taught the scholars of Uruk writing and
Sumerian, skills refined by the goddess Nissaba
(44–49). The story implies that an unbroken
lineage and tradition connected the scholars of
Old Babylonian Uruk to man’s earliest intellectual experience. Thus the father tells his son that
he is heir to an ancient and venerable tradition.
Here one is reminded of Benno Landsberger’s
remark about the Edubba, that “no other institution contributed as much to the preservation
of the past as the tablet-house: it did so by transmitting a spiritual inheritance from one generation to another” (Landsberger 1960: 95). But
the father evidently does not think his son yet
worthy of this inheritance, for now he contrasts
his son’s fine reputation as a scholar with his
lack of true understanding (50–51). This marks
a return to the topic of ll. 17–20, with the added
knowledge that the son is no novice, but an
established and senior figure. Next the father
revisits the subject of intellectual inheritance,
laying particular stress on the father’s role in
passing on to his son his city’s fine reputation for
scholarship and the son’s responsibility in turn
not to squander that reputation (52–54).
The next lines are badly damaged, but
enough is preserved to show that the father
returns to the relationship between Sîn and
Enlil, which he uses to demonstrate that sons
are made by their fathers’ own example and
instruction (55–57). The text seems then to
describe Sîn’s qualification as a scribe and his
appointment by Ea to a post in Ur (58–60). Enlil
and Sîn here symbolize every father who teaches his son, and every son who learns from his
father. The message is clear: the father is his
son’s superior, as Enlil is Sîn’s, and the son will
gain most by patient obedience. There is also a
metaphorical reading, important in the academy: the learning of Ur derived, by Ea’s will,
from Nippur, and the scholars of Ur are thus
subordinate to their counterparts in Nippur.
Finally, the last two lines, as I understand
them, record that the quarrel between Sîn and
Enlil was brought to an end by a goddess, the
“veiled bride” (61–62). As argued in the textual
notes, this must be Nissaba. Why should Nissaba be veiled? Perhaps to convey by metaphor
that scribal learning is a hidden art. Thus the
mysterious fiiduri, according to fiurpu II 173 a
goddess of wisdom, was veiled in SB GilgameÍ
X 4: ku-tu-um-mi kut-tu-mat-ma “covered with a
shawl.” The veiled goddess brings a final resolution to the composition: the argument that
has set at odds these two scholars, father and
son, can be brought to an end by the learning
and skills that they share. The text closes, however, with a standard Sumerian doxology to
Enki, the Sumerian Ea, patron of all knowledge
(63). And in this conventional line, the Sumerian is undoubtedly original, the Akkadian secondary.
The Sumerian Translation
The Sumerian version of the composition has
been characterized above as artificial and arcane.
The opening sentence can be held up as an
example of how it deviates from our expectations. The Akkadian runs as follows:
The Scholars of Uruk
k‹ma ⁄li kiÍÍatim Uruk ⁄l‹ma ⁄li Íarr‹
u atta Ía in ⁄l‹ya u m⁄t‹ya tarbû
b‹t b¤l‹ya tamlul u tamÍu’ mimmê b¤lt‹ya tusappiÓ
Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk,
a city of kings!
But you, who grew up in my city and my
homeland,
you stripped clean and plundered the house of
my lord, you squandered the property of
my lady.
A conventional Sumerian equivalence of these
lines should run something like this:
uru ki.Íár.ra.gin7 unugki uru.gu10.um uru
lugal.la.(kam)
ù za.e dumu uru.gá.me.en kalam.ma
bùlug.gá.me.en
lugal.gá é.a.ni mu.e.kar.kar nin.gá níg.a.ni
mu.e.bir.bir
Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk,
a city of kings!
But you, a son of my city, brought up in the
homeland,
you stole from the household of my lord, you
squandered the property of my lady.
Instead our text has:
uru.Íú.gìn Íubax uru.gá.àm uru lugal
bi za.a Íè uru.mu bi ki.gá.àm è.da.bí.ib
é lugal.mu gú.gíd.éÍ al.ba.ma.ab níg nin.mu
al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib
Word order and syntax are fundamentally
Akkadian and the Sumerian vocabulary arises
from a set of one-to-one equivalences: k‹ma =
gìn, ⁄li = uru, kiÍÍatim = Íú, Uruk = Íubax, Íarr‹ =
lugal, u = bi, atta = za.a, Ía = àm?, ina = Íè,
m⁄t‹ya = ki.gá, tarbû = è.da.bí.ib, b‹t = é, b¤l‹ya =
lugal.mu, tamlul u tamÍu’ = gú.gíd.éÍ
al.ba.ma.ab, mimmê = níg, b¤lt‹ya = nin.mu,
tusappiÓ = al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib. Ten out of these
seventeen equivalences are unconventional.
Most can be substantiated either by homophony
81
(gìn : gin7 = k‹ma), by synonymy (è “to come
forth” = rabûm “to grow up”), or by entries in
bilingual lexical texts and other lists (Íú = kiÍÍatim, Íuba = Uruk, bi = u, àm = Ía, Íè = ina, ki =
m⁄tum). The text shows a predilection for verbal
forms that by any standards are misconstrued:
è.da.bí.ib, al.ba.ma.ab, al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib. The
individual equations are more fully explained in
the textual notes.
The text’s recourse to lexical lists explains its
ungrammatical use of particles, and also reminds
us of the existence of a considerable body of
Sumerian lexemes that rarely occur in the Old
Babylonian corpus of Sumerian literature but
populate the pedagogic and scholastic texts. The
bilingual lexical corpus is the source and sustenance of what we may call academic Sumerian,
a term that is further elaborated in the commentary below.
At the same time, the text reveals in places
an author who can compose conventional Sumerian. In one instance where the Akkadian is
corrupt and the Sumerian is conventional
(though marred by lipography), good sense can
only be had from the latter (l. 7 ú-ul ta-ta-áÍ-baa-ma for ul taqabbâma // inim <nu>.ub.bé.en
“you cannot say a word”). Old Babylonian
scribal schools were the last stronghold of Sumerian literature, the memorization and study of
which formed the principle part of the curriculum. This author’s engagement with his Sumerian intellectual inheritance is also demonstrated
by a passage that makes use of a standard sequence of time expressions, ud.ri.a ... ud.sud.rá,
gi6.ri.a ... gi6.bad.rá, mu.ri.a ... mu.sud.rá (ll. 10–
12). This pattern is much used in Sumerian narrative poems copied out in Old Babylonian
schools, most nearly in the opening lines of Bilgames and the Netherworld (BN) and of the
Instructions of fiuruppak (Ifi), and in a passage of
the Death of Bilgames (DB). The passages in
question read as follows:
82
Babylonian Literary Texts
ud.ri.a ud.sud.rá.ri.a
gi6.ri.a gi6.bad.rá.ri.a
mu.ri.a mu.sud.rá.ri.a
BN 1–3 // Ifi 1–3
ud.ri.ta ud.[sud.rá.ri.ta]
gi6.ri.ta gi6 [bad.rá.ri.ta]
mu.ri.ta m[u.sud.rá.ri.ta]
DB STVC 87B 3'–5'
ed. Veldhuis 2001: 147
ud.ri.ta ud.sud.da.ri.ta
gi6.ri.ta gi6 ‚sud.da.riŸ.ta
mu.ri.ta mu.sud.da.ri.ta
DB M 69–71 // 159–61
ud.ri.a LÚ™KAM?.uÍ Óé.em.rára.àm ud.sud4.rá silim Óa.ma.ab.gi4
gi6.ri.a bal.àm Óé.em.rá.àm gi6.bad.rá Íe.ús Óa.ma.ab.gi4
mu.ri.a sar.re.eÍ Óé.em.rá.àm mu.sud4.rá ki!.ág Óa.ma.ab.gi4
MS 2624 10–12, Sum. only
For other instances of this pattern in the
third and second millennia see Thomsen 1984:
81, Alster 2005: 103. Its transfer into the firstmillennium tradition of bilingual scholarship is
attested by its presence in B‹t rimki house IIIA
(Uruk III 67: 1–6, ed. von Weiher 1988: 51).
An overview of the techniques employed in
deriving the Sumerian text from the Akkadian is
given in the commentary below. The correspondences of individual Sumerian and Akkadian words and particles are elaborated in the
textual notes that accompany the edition.
Aspects of Language and Writing
The language of the Akkadian text is Old Babylonian prose heightened by parallelism (e.g. ll.
10–12, 15–16, 53–54). The author had a scholar’s predilection for rare words and unusual verb
stems: Óum⁄tum “palm” (5), ezz¤rum “foulmouthed person” (11), er›rum “insult” (12),
rit›mum “mutual affection” (12), sullum⁄tum
“reconciliation” (13), aÍ⁄rum II/1 “to check”
(18), en¤num I/1 “to pay homage” (25), Íi’⁄mum
II/1 “to determine destiny” (44), wa‰bum “additional” (49), baÍûm II/1 “to bring into existence” (49). Some of these are new to us. A
foreshortened 2nd masc. sing. stative may be an
archaism or a provincialism: ‰abt⁄t (4), nabi’⁄t
(51); the old literary form also occurs: maÓri’⁄ti
(39). Also noteworthy is the bisyllabic construct
state ⁄li (1) instead of ⁄l.
The script is an excellent Old Babylonian
cursive hand and, even if a later scribe could
have emulated it, it is doubtful that he could
have done so convincingly. Particularly distinctive are cursive forms of gi4 and ne. The writer
also maintains the old distinction between dab
(14) and lu. In contrast to the preceding text, the
short subscript employs an archaizing, school
script.
The orthography of the tablet is also good
Old Babylonian. The writer observed the
orthographic differentiation of “normal” /s/
and the /s/ in words from such roots as 3slm and
3Ís’ (Goetze 1958: 140, Westenholz 2006: 254).
Thus the syllable /sV/ is spelled with signs from
the Z-range: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), ú-sú-uk-ki-ia (5), séer (8), ni-is-sà-a-ba (23, 49), i-sí-in (26), ta-Óa-sàas (50), except in sa-la-mi (10), su-lu-ma-tum (13),
and Íi-si-it (59). This is a hallmark of classical Old
Babylonian writing and a distinction that did
not endure. By contrast, the spelling displays inconsistency in rendering the syllables /pi/, /ˇu/
and /‰i/, which perhaps mark the copy down as
late Old Babylonian: /pi/: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), Íi-pí-ka
(8) against pi-in-Íi-ka (4), pi-iÍ-tum (8), pi-ka (9),
ú-‰a-pi-i (18), pi-Íu (46); /ˇu/: Íu-ˇù-bi (11), ti-ˇùbi-im (14), against aˇ-ˇú-ul (18), aÍ-ˇú-ru-ma na-ˇúú (20); /‰i/: ‰i-ru-um (25), te-‰i-it (28), [te]-‚‰iŸtam (61), ik-‰i-ru (61), against a‰-‰é-er (31), wa-‰íib-tam (49).
There are only five or six examples of lack of
mimation: sa-la-mi (10), Íu-ˇù-bi (11), ri-tu-mi
(12), a-aÓ-mu-uˇ-ku (17), i-ni-in-Íu? (25), aÍ-Íu-Íu
(42). Defective spelling of geminate consonants
is also relatively infrequent: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), Óu-liiq-Íi (9), su-lu-ma-tum (13), ú-‰a-pi-i ú-Íi-ir (18),
ku-ur-ku-za-nim (21), ta-bi (38), ú-wa-li-id (48),
ú-ba-Íi-a-am (49). There is one example of false
gemination: a ib-ba-aÍ-Íi (22) for ay ibbaÍi. One
short unstressed vowel is spelled plene: me-e-Óuum (8) for meÓûm. There is one instance of a
The Scholars of Uruk
plene spelling of the final vowel of a verb from
a finally weak root: ú-‰a-pi-i (18).
The Akkadian text is not free from grammatical and orthographic error. There are three
instances of false case: nom. for acc. ki-na-tum
(26), ˇup-Íar-ru-tum (47); acc. for nom. a-ba-am
(56). The first two of these can be explained as
idiosyncratic uses of CVC-signs to convey case
endings, a feature of Old Babylonian writing
that has not been fully investigated (but see
Richter 1999b: 402). Mimation occurs falsely
on li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim (13) for lirteddêni’⁄ti. In
a later text it would be explained as a hypercorrection; here it is early evidence for the development of signs that express C+case ending into
C+V signs, and can be compared to, e.g. YOS
X 33 iv 13: i-ba-al-lu-TUM for iballuˇ› (OB
omen apodosis). There is one example of a false
plural: uÍ-bu (30) for ›Íib, and two of more seri-
83
ous textual corruption: tattaÍbâma (7) for taqabbâma, a-li-a-am (40) for anni’am. Lipography is
relatively common: ta-ar-bu-<ú> (2), mi-im-mi<e> (3), <nu>.ub.bé.en (7), <ta>-pa-Ía-ar (7), il<li>-ik (31), i-na-<na>-a-ma (42), ar!(RI)-Íi-aak-kum (43), <at>-ta-a-ma (50). One instance of
dittography occurs: lu-{i-id}-id-lu-ul (26) for
ludlul; and one of false order: i-na Ía (50) for Ía
ina. While the ductus displays great beauty and
maturity, these manifold slips mark the scribe as
more careless than many Old Babylonian copiers of literary and scholarly texts.
The evidence of language, script, and spelling all argue that this is a composition of the Old
Babylonian period, rather than a later piece in
archaizing style. Its place in the history of
ancient Mesopotamian bilingual intellectual
culture is explored more fully below, in the
commentary that follows the edition.
84
Babylonian Literary Texts
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
uru.Íú.gìn Íubax(ZA.MÙfi.ba) uru.gá.àm uru lugal
ki-ma a-li ki-iÍ-Ía-tim ú-ru-uk a-li-i-ma a-li Íar-ri
bi za.a Íè uru.mu bi ki.gá.àm è.da.bí.ib
ù at-ta Ía i-na a-li-ia ù ma-ti-ia ta-ar-bu-<ú>
é lugal.mu gú.gíd.éÍ al.ba.ma.ab níg nin.mu al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib
bi-it be-li-ia ta-am-lu-ul ù tam-Íu-uÓ mi-im-mi-<e> be-el-ti-ia tu-sà-pí-iÓ
mu ní.zuÓ.da.àm ka.zu!.a búr ba.ra.dab5
aÍ-Íum ki-ma Íar-ra-qí-im i-na ba-ab pi-in-Íi-i-ka la ‰a-ab-ta-a-at
Íu.a ní.me.kam te.gá bí.ib.ra.ra
i-na Óu-ma-at ra-ma-ni-ia ú-sú-uk-ki-ia ta-da-ak
zé.eÓ.tur.re.e un sag gal.la.àm i.ra.nú
ku-ur-ku-za-an lu ta-ta-ka-al ri-bi-i‰
níg gá di.bi nu.ub.gi4.e inim <nu>.ub.bé.en na.ma.búr!
a-na Ía a-qá-ab-bu-ú ú-ul ta-ap-pa-al ú-ul ta-ta-áÍ-ba-a-ma ú-ul <ta>-pa-Ía-ar
in im u18.lu uÍ7(KA™LI) gìr.za.àm i.ib.si.ge.éÍ
pi-iÍ-tum Ía-rum ù me-e-Óu-um ki-ma ru-uÓ-tim i-na Íi-pí-ka sé-er
áÍ ab líl.e.ba im ka.zu.uÍ ba.e.Óa.lam
er-re-tam ki-ma zi-qí-iq a-ap-tim i-na Ía-ar pi-ka Óu-li-iq-Íi
ud.ri.a LÚ™KAM?.uÍ Óé.em.rára.àm ud.sud4.rá silim Óa.ma.ab.gi4
u4-um ‰a-al-tim ul-lu-tum li-it-ta-al-ku-ma u4-um sa-la-mi re-qú-tum li-ku-nu
gi6.ri.a bal.àm Óé.em.rá.àm gi6.bad.rá Íe.ús Óa.ma.ab.gi4
mu-Íi-it ez-ze-ri ul-li-tum li-it-ta-la-ak-ma mu-Íi Íu-ˇù-bi pa-nu-tum limu.ri.a sar.re.eÍ Óé.em.rá.àm mu.sud4.rá ki!.ág Óa.ma.ab.gi4
Ía-na-at e-ru-ri ul-li-a-tum li-it-ta-al-ka Ía-na-at ri-tu-mi re-qé-tum liníg.ku7.ku7 Óé.me.ús níg.silim.e.eÍ Óé.me.zi
dam-qá-tum li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim su-lu-ma-tum li-it-ru-a-ni-a-ti
ud ku7.dè.eÍ Óé.em.sud4.rá ud Íà.dab.bé.eÍ Óa.ba.‚kuŸ.nu
u4-um ti-ˇù-bi-im re-qú-ú-ma u4-um ze-{ras.}-né-e-em lu qé-er-bu
ne.en.ne.en {ras.} dsuen Óé.me.in
an-ni-a-tim-ma dsîn(suen) li-Ía-ab-Íi
ne.ri.a.aÍ e.lum Óé.ri.eÍ
ul-li-a-tim den-líl li-ri-iq-Íi-na-ti
e.zu e.zu e.zu e.zu gá.àm na.gá.aÓ me.en
i-na e-Ói-iz ta-al-ma-du a-aÓ-mu-uˇ-ku ki-ma a-na ia-Íi-im nu-Óu-um at-ta
ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá za.àm pe.el Óé.me.en
aˇ-ˇú-ul ú-‰a-pi-i ú-Íi-ir a-mur-ma a-na ka-Íi-im pe-Óu-um a-na-‚kuŸ
e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 gá.àm na.gá.aÓ me.en
tu-ur Íi-ni mi-it-li-ik a-pu-ul ki-ma a-na ia-Íi-im nu-Óu-um at-ta
‚ìŸ.gen ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen za.àm pe.el i.me.en
al-li-ik er-de i-na Ía aÍ-ˇú-ru-ma na-ˇú-ú a-na ka-Íi-im pe-Óu-um a-na-k[u]
‚ÍaÓŸ.zé.eÓ.gin7 DAG.KISIM5™KAM? ‚ÍàŸ.zu ga a.ab.gu7
ki-ma ku-ur-ku-za-nim tu-le-e li-ib-bi-ka te-ni-iq
ì.ne.éÍ níg.gi4.ga.àm lú.ta AN.ta na.‚meŸ.éÍ
iÍ-tu i-na-an-na lu ta-aÍ-ta-ni-ma Ía/ta-aÍ-Ía/ta-ku-uÍ-tum a ib-ba-aÍ-Íi
‚dŸníssaba dub.sar.munus {ras.} dníssaba kù.zu.munus
ni-is-sà-a-ba-ma ˇup-Íar-ra-at dníssaba-ma em-‚qéŸ-et
The Scholars of Uruk
85
1
TRANSLATION OF THE AKKADIAN
Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk, a city of kings!
2
But you, who grew up in my city and my homeland,
3
you stripped clean and plundered the house of my lord, you squandered the property of
my lady.
4
Because you were not caught like a thief at the mouth of a breach(!) you (made in the
wall),
5
you slap (lit. kill) my cheeks with the palm of my own hand!
6
You little pig! You have fed and fed, (now) lay yourself down!
7
You can have no reply to what I am saying, you have not been sated (sic! Sum.: can
<not> say a word) and cannot refute (it).
8
Invective (is but) wind and storm: rub (it into the ground) with your foot like spittle!
9
Put an end to cursing with the breath of your mouth, like a puff of wind through a window!
10
May bygone days of squabbling depart and far-off days of friendship be established!
11
May bygone night(s) of foulmouths depart and former nights of kindness be established!
12
May bygone years of insults depart, may far-off years of mutual affection be established!
13
May good fortune always follow after us, may reconciliation guide us!
14
Days of permanent good feeling are (yet) distant, for days of anger are still near!
15
May Sîn bring just these things about,
16
may Enlil keep those things far away!
17
In the knowledge you learned I was faster than you. How you were a dunce compared
with me!
18
I looked, I studied, I checked, I read and, compared with you, was I dim-witted?
19
Consider again, a second time, (and) respond! How you were a dunce compared with
me!
20
I went (on), I progressed; in what I wrote and what was proper, compared with you, was
I dim-witted?
21
Like a piglet you sucked at the teats of your own belly!
22
Would that you had changed henceforth, so there would be no more infighting(?)!
23
Nissaba it is who is a scribe, Nissaba it is who is wise,
86
Babylonian Literary Texts
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
edge
34
rev.
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
d
níssaba.àm géÍtug nin dníssaba bàn.da nin
d
níssababa-ma be-le-et uz-nim dníssaba be-le-et ta-Íi-‚imŸ-tim
mu.maÓ dníssaba mud5.me.gar ZÉ.sag.gin7 Óu!.‚mu.u5?Ÿ.i.i
Íu-mu-um ‰i-ru-um Ía dníssaba ki-ma re-Ía-at ‚niŸ-qí-im i-‚niŸ-in-‚Íu?!Ÿ
mí zi.dè.eÍ zé kaÍ.dé.a.gin7 ki gal!.le.eÍ Óé.em.gá.‚gáŸ
ta-ak-ni-a-ti-Íu ki-na-tum ki-ma i-sí-in qé-re-tim ‚ki-iŸ ra-bi-iÍ ‚lu-{i-id}Ÿ-id-lu-ul
lú urim5ki nibruki.bi.Íè LÚ™KAM?.ga.àm
ki-ma tap-<pe-e> ú-ru-um ù ni-ip-pu-ru i‰-‰a-‚aŸ-lu
è níg.zu.á.bi.eÍ! Íu.mú bal ak.dè
te-‰i-it iÓ-zi-Íu-nu i-na-za-ar ka-ra-ab i-pu-Íu
‚dŸen.líl é.kur.Íè dnanna é.kiÍ.nu.gál.la.Íè
[a-n]a den-líl i-na é.kur ù dsîn(suen) i-na é.kiÍ.nu.gál
[im z]i giÍ tuk.ba.àm sag.ne.ne ba.a.tuÍ.bi
[Í]a-rum a-li-ku-um iÍ-me-e-ma ma-aÓ-ri-Íu-nu uÍ-bu
[d]nanna dumu zi.dè ág tab ki zu?/ba?! an.DU.DU.àm
[dsî]n(suen) ma-rum ku-un-nu-ú-um iÓ-mu-uˇ-ma a‰-‚‰é-er a-bi-imŸ il-<li>-ik
[mu n]u mùrgu(KA™NE).éÍ bi.pap ama na.[an.x (x) x]
[aÍ-Íu]m la li-ib-ba-ti a-bi-Íu ù la [ . . . um-mi-Íu]
[mu nu] ÓúÍ(GÌR) pap ama na.[an.Íùr.ra.àm?]
[aÍ-Íu]m la Ía-ma-ar a-bi-Íu ù l[a e-ze-ez? um-mi-Íu]
[mu nu] ‚siŸ pap ama na.an.[diri.ga.àm?]
[aÍ-Íum la a-Í]a-aÍ a-bi-Íu ù la na-aÓ-du-ur u[m-mi-Íu]
[x x x x ]x a.a.ni mu.un.na.[si?]
[x x ú-ze?]-en-ni-a-Íu a-ba-a-Íu ig-r[i]
[x x x x] ‚gá.eŸ.eÍ Íu an.da.bal
[x x x x Í/t]a-‚di/kiŸ-[i]l-ma ‚Ía-alŸ-ˇi-iÍ i-ta-w[u]
[x x x x] x x x [na.m]a.ab.bé
[x x x x] x x x-‚iÍ e?Ÿ [t]a-aq-bi
[x x x x] x x [(x) x].ab.bi
[x x x x] a-‚na? x x x x x-nuŸ-um ma-ra-am <na>-ra-ma-am ta-bi
[x x x x sa]g? igi ÍúÍana ‚téÍ.taŸ i.‚ibŸ.ri
[x x x x] x ma-aÓ-ri-a-ti a-bu-‚ÍuŸ Íi-it-te-en ka-‚laŸ-ma le-qé-a-am ta-aÍ-ru-uk
[x x x x] ‚tab?.baŸ giÍ.Íub na.an i.ib.tar
[x x i-na?] ta-aÍ-ri-it a-bi-Íu is-qá-‚amŸ a-‚li-aŸ-am ta-Íi-im
‚muŸ m[a.àm.á]g.gá.àm den.ki íb.ta ma.àm.ág
aÍ-‚Íum taŸ-ra-am-ma-an-ni ‚éŸ-a i-te-e i-ra-am-ma-an-ni-ma
ne.ta.àm den.ki.bi.Íè zi zi sag ma.ra.an.na.zi
ù i-na-<na>-a-ma a-na é-a Ía-a-ti a-na pa-ni ki-na-ti-Íu ki-na-tim aÍ-Íu-Íu
Íà.gè.gíd GÁ.bi.Íè ma.àm.tuk.bi
a-na re-mi-i-Íu re-ma-am ar!(RI)-Íi-a-ak-[k]um
mu.un.dím ma.àm géÍtug uru.gá.a.Íè mu.un.ri
ú-Íi-im-ma a-an-ni-a-am-ma uz-nam a-na a-li-ia iÍ-ru-uk
Íà ma.da.gá.a kù.zu gi16 mu.un.gál
i-na li-ib-bi ‚maŸ-ti-ia né-me-qá-am da-ri-a-am ú-Ía-ab-Íi
ud.bi.ta.àm abgal [m]u.da.an.e11 gaÍam gá.Ía ka.bi ba.e.K≤D
iÍ-tu a-nu-mi-i-Íu-ma ap-kál-lum i-li-a-am-ma Óa-as-sum pi-Íu ip-te
The Scholars of Uruk
87
24
Nissaba it is who is the mistress of wisdom, Nissaba, the mistress of intelligence.
25
The sublime name of Nissaba (is) like the best portion of a sacrifice, pay it(?) homage!
26
How greatly will I sing praise of its steadfast tenderness, as at the festival of banquets!
27
Like colleagues Ur and Nippur were quarrelling with each other,
28
their dispute about knowledge was growing blasphemous in regard to the greetings they
invented.
29
On behalf of Enlil in Ekur and Sîn in EkiÍnugal,
30
a passing breeze heard and (! text: they) came to rest in their presence.
31
Sîn, the cherished son, made haste and went(!) before the father,
32
[so] as not (to incur) his father’s anger nor his mother’s [wrath,]
33
[so] his father would not rage nor his mother [fret,]
34
[so] his father would [not] be vexed nor his mother worried.
35
[ . . . he(?) made] him angry, opposed his father.
36
[ . . . ] . . . talked with authority:
37
“[ . . . ] . . . do not speak like a . . . ,
38
[ . . . ] for . . . you called (your) son beloved(!).
39
[ . . . ] you being the most senior, you, his father, granted that he receive two parts of
everything.
40
[ . . . at(?)] the inauguration(?) of his father, you assigned this(!) (as his) lot.”
41
Because you love me, (because) Ea also loves me, for my part(?),
42
and now (because) I offered steadfastness to him, Ea, in return for his steadfastness,
43
for the sake of his pity, I have taken pity on you.
44
He (Ea) determined this destiny and bestowed wisdom on my city,
45
he established within my land eternal sagacity.
46
Thereupon the sage came up and the learned one opened his mouth,
88
Babylonian Literary Texts
47
nam.dub.‚sarŸ.ra é.kur ri.en.Íè a.{x}.gíd
ˇup-Íar-ru-‚tumŸ [a-n]a [é.ku]r ‚a-liŸ-ia ‚iÍ-luŸ-ul
48 en.‚né maÓ?Ÿ Íà ‚lú.mu.ta bíŸ.[in].‚tuŸ.ud
Íu-me-‚raŸ-am ma-dam i-na li-ib-bi um-ma-na-ti-ia ú-wa-li-id
49 égi.zi dníssaba daÓ.daÓ.e mu.ra.an.tuk
ru-ba-tum ni-is-sà-a-ba wa-‰í-ib-tam ú-ba-Íi-a-am
50 uru.gá.ta mu.sa6 gar.ra.‚aŸ.ba za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì
i-na Ía a-li-im Íu-ma-am ‚daŸ-am-qá-am Ía-ak-nu <at>-ta-a-ma ú-ul ta-Óa-sà-as
51 kur.gá sì.‚sì?Ÿ zíb.ba.dè.eÍ TUK.a.zu? za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì
Ía Ói-i[s-sà-at] ma-ti-‚iaŸ te-le-i-iÍ na-‚bi-a-atŸ at-ta-a-ma ú-ul ta52 bil l[ú.tur?.t]a? i.im.nim za.e ne.e.gá.Íè ma.a.ab.Óúl
a-b[u-u]m ‚aŸ-na m[u]-ú[Ó-Ói] ma-ri-im Ía-‚qu?/qi4?Ÿ at-ta a-na an-ni-a-ti-ia Óu-du
53 uru ‚naŸ.gá.à[m x (x) x ]x ta lu? kur.bi na.zu!.um
‚ÍuŸ-mi a-l[i-ia] ‚ù ÍuŸ-mi ma-t[i]-‚iaŸ Íum-ka-a-ma
54 kù.zu uru.gá.à[m ma.d]a? ‚géÍtugŸ.en [n]a.zu.um!
né-me-eq a-l[i-ia ù] ‚úŸ-z[u-u]n m[a-ti]-ia Íum-ka-a-ma
55 kur.gal x[ . . . . . . . . . ].zi
d
e[n-líl . . . . . . . . . ] ‚ib?Ÿ-ni
56 bil l[ú.tur? . . . . . . . . . ] x [x (x) b]a.an.da.gi4
a-ba-‚am maŸ-r[a-a-Íu ú-ra-a]b-bi-[i-ma] ‚aŸ-na Ía le-Óu it-tu-ur
57 lugal kur.gal e.l[um . . . ] x [x x x ba].an.da.gi4
d
sîn(suen) den-líl i-[ . . . ú-ra]-‚abŸ-[bi-i]-ma a-na Ía le-Óu itd
58 Íu e[n.ki.ga.ta? . . . . . . gub.bí].ib
i-na ˇ[e4-em é-a? . . . . . . i]z-zi-iz
59 abgal é Z[U.A]B [ . . . . . . ].gar
ù i-na Íi-si-i[t] a[p-ka-al ap-sí-im? a-na ˇup-Íar-r]i ‚úŸ-ri it-ta-aÍ-ka-an
60 nam.dub.sar.ra nib[ruki . . . ]x ‚baŸ.a.ab.tuk
ˇup-Íar-ru-tam Ía ‚b‹t(é)Ÿ n[ippuru(nibru)ki den-líl?] ‚lu ú-Ía-arŸ-Íi
61 è lugal x x x [x x].‚ke4?Ÿ
[te]-‚‰iŸ-tam Ía dsîn(suen) ù de[n-líl] ‚ik-‰i-ru?Ÿ
62 ‚gi6Ÿ [munus?] é.gi4.a Íú ‚bí.inŸ.s[a6?]
‚dŸ[níssab]a?/[me.m]e? ka-al-la-tum ku-ut-‚tuŸ-um-t[um ú-ˇi?-i]b
63 a.a ‚denŸ.ki zà.mí.‚zuŸ d[ùg.g]a.àm
a-‚bu-umŸ é-a [ta-ni-i]t-ta-ka [ˇa-b]a-at
subscript: Íid.bi 1,3
The Scholars of Uruk
89
47
the scribal art he carried off as booty to the temple of my city,
48
in the hearts of my men he brought about the birth of much Sumerian.
49
The lady Nissaba brought into being (everything) additional.
50
Though you are one who in the city enjoys a fine reputation, you do not understand;
51
though regarding the lore of my land you are invoked as an expert, you do not understand.
52
Father is taller than son: you be glad about these things of mine!
53
The fame of my city and the fame of my homeland are your fame,
54
the learning of [my] city [and the] wisdom of my homeland are your fame.
55
Enlil [ . . . . . . . . . ] made(?).
56
The father [brought] up [his] son [and] he turned into one who was capable!
57
Sîn, Enlil the [elum brought him up] and he turned into one who was capable!
58
By the will [of Ea(?) . . . he] stood,
59
and by proclamation of the [sage of Apsû(?)] he was appointed [a scribe(?)] of Ur.
60
The learning of the house of Nippur [Enlil(?)] did permit (him) to acquire.
61
The dispute that Sîn and Enlil started(?)
62
Nissaba(?), the veiled bride, [made] good(?).
63
O father Ea, your praise is sweet!
Subscript: Its (line)-count: 63
NOTES
These notes are primarily appended in order to
document the correspondences of individual
Sumerian and Akkadian words and particles that
are made in the text. Commonplace equations
are noted, but without further reference; rare,
imaginative, and obscure correspondences attract
fuller comment, where possible citing Old
Babylonian lexical evidence. Because the Akkadian is primary and the Sumerian derived from
it, unproblematic equations are cited Akkadian
first.
1. Akk. ⁄lum = Sum. uru (three times), kiÍÍatum = Íú, k‹ma yields gìn(KUR), a homophone of gin7(GIM) = k‹ma. The signgroup ZA.MÙfi.ba can be rendered Íúbaba
or Íubax. The equation Íuba = Uruk does
not occur in the extant Old Babylonian
recensions of Diri but finds a later parallel
in the entry [ZA].MÙfiki = ú-ru-uk in a firstmillennium geographical list (MSL XI 54:
21); Akk. 1.sg. suffix -‹ “my” = Sum. 1.sg.
possessive suffix + postposition -gá “of my,
90
Babylonian Literary Texts
in my,” enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm (as
already in Proto-Diri Oxford 198), Íarrum
= lugal. The usual construct state of ⁄lum is
⁄l, but in Old Babylonian ⁄li also occurs,
e.g. YOS X 9 20 // 33–34: a-li la-wi-at nawu-ta i-mar “the town you are besieging
will experience desolation”; the bisyllabic
form presumably developed by analogy
with the bisyllabic construct states of
*pars-type nouns from finally weak roots,
e.g. m⁄rum : m⁄ri, n‹Íum : n‹Íi, m›Íum : m›Íi.
2. Akk. u = Sum. bi, twice (e.g. NBGT I
203), atta = za.a (NBGT I 110); Íè (or éÍ)
corresponds to ina (e.g. MBGT II 61, Ea I
181), though a case could also be made for
derivation from atta (NBGT IX 35: éÍ =
at-ta). ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg. suffix -ia = -mu,
m⁄tum = ki (or gu14) is noted in late lists
(Nabn‹tu IV 56, Idu II 313, glossed gu-uKI =
m. in Ea IV 97), 1.sg. suffix -ia = -gá; -àm
probably derives from Ía (Diri III 121a).
The correspondence tarbû // è.da.bí.ib
rests on rabûm “to grow up” // è (éd) “to
come out, grow (of crops)” (cf. Proto-Aa
159: eè = rubbûm, factitive “to grow”), and
the Akk. subordinative suffix -u correctly
yields Sum. -a; the author chose to transpose the verbal base and suffix (è.da) and
the prefix chain (bí.ib), properly an imperative construction, presumably because he
understood the Sumerian imperative (correctly) as a kind of second-person form.
He does so again in l. 3.
3. Akk. b‹tum = Sum. é, b¤l‹ya = lugal.mu.
What follows is less straightforward: a similar Sumerian phrase is gú.gíd.éÍ ak.a,
translated as maÍ⁄’um “to loot” in Nabn‹tu
XVII 181. In that phrase the meaning of
gú.gíd can be supplied by its equation elsewhere with Íullulum “to plunder, abduct”
(Izi F 114): adverbial gú.gíd.éÍ thus suggested a propensity to steal. The Sumerian
verb forms of this line both exhibit the
imperative inversion seen in the previous
line, but with the addition of prefixed al-,
as if this prefix were compounded with the
verbal base. The first, al.ba.ma.ab, will
therefore break down into prefix al-, ver-
bal base, and suffixed prefix chain; since
the last is surely ma.ab, the verbal base is
ba, which is understood in the sense of “to
deduct, expropriate” (cf. Proto-Aa 146:5':
[ba-aba] = na-Ía-a-rum “to reduce”). The
phrase gú.gíd.éÍ ba, while not previously
attested, is acceptable as genuine Sumerian. The author converted an Akkadian
phrase consisting of a pair of near synonyms into a Sumerian phrase consisting
of an adverb and a verb; thus two match
two, and the technique of composition is
not mechanical but based on equal quantity.
The second clause of the line exhibits
correspondences mimmûm = níg (abbreviated from níg.nam), b¤lt‹ya = nin.mu, and
sap⁄Óum II/1 = al.bir.al.bir. The last is a
reduplication (to match the Akkadian II/1
stem) not only of the verbal base, bir, but
also of the prefix, al-. The compounding
of al- and bir also occurs later in omen
apodoses, where al.bir.(re) is used logographically for parts of sap⁄Óum. It is noteworthy that all three inverted verbs of ll.
2–3 end in /b/; Babylonian grammarians
seem from their paradigms to have held
this as the norm in Sumerian imperatives
(see Black 1991: 95).
mi-im-mi is taken as a defective spelling
of mimmûm in the construct state. The
form mimmi occurs in Amarna letters; but
in good Old Babylonian the forms of the
construct state hitherto attested are mimmê
(CH §125: mi-im-me-e be-el b‹tim) and mimmu (CT 6 7 no. 272: 7: mi-mu b‹t a-bi-Íunu).
4. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. mu, k‹ma = àm (ProtoAa 8:2), Íarr⁄qum = ní.zuÓ, b⁄bum “opening” = ka “mouth” or ka = homophone of
ká “doorway,” 2.sg. suffix -ka = 2.sg. suffix
-zu, ina = -a (Proto-Aa 2:1), l⁄ ‰abt⁄t =
ba.ra.dab5. The verb can be broken down
further into l⁄ = ba.ra, 2.sg. subj. -⁄ta = -ra2.sg. infix, ‰ab⁄tum = dab5. This leaves búr
as the equivalent of pi-in-Íi-i-ka, which the
parallel (cited below) demonstrates to be
for pil͋ka. The odd spelling arose either
The Scholars of Uruk
because the scribe chose the wrong sign (in
for il or el) or, more probably, because it
marks a development pilÍum > *piÍÍum >
pinÍum (cf. later nalÍum > naÍÍu > namÍu
“dew”; for OB /lÍ/ > /ÍÍ/ see Text No. 5:
58 and note). The expression k‹ma Íarr⁄qim
ina b⁄b pilÍim occurs also in an incantation
included in a Standard Babylonian compilation of treatments for ailments of the
head (BAM 494 iii 72): gim Íar-ra-qí ina ká
pil-Íi-Í[u]. Digging through mud-brick
walls in order to burgle (b‹tam pal⁄Íum) is
established as a typical crime by CH §21
and elsewhere. Thieving from the king by
this means is a practice reported in the apodoses of fiumma ⁄lu IX 31' and 32' (ed.
Freedman 1998: 150): makk›r(níg.ga) ekalli(é.gal) ina pilÍi(bùr)Íi u‰‰i(è) “palace property will disappear through a hole in the
wall.” The author translated pilÍum with
búr either by homophony with bùr(U) =
pilÍum, or because he confused that equation with búr = piÍrum.
5. Akk. ina = Sum. -a (as l. 4), ram⁄num = ní,
1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.pl. possessive
-me, genitive = -kam < -(a)k + enclitic,
usukkum = te, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia =
-gá, tadâk = bí.ib.ra.ra (cf. CT 12 29 iv 21:
[ra-a]ra = da-a-ku). This leaves Óu-ma-at = Íu
“hand.” The Akkadian is a rare word that
otherwise appears only in the lexical list
Bilingual Ugumu D 19: Íu.gíd.mu = Óu-mati, an entry sandwiched between ritt‹ “my
hand” and upn⁄ya “my fists” and thus
denoting an attitude or part of the human
hand. In the present context of striking the
cheek, “palm” is the most likely equivalence and fits the etymology of Íu.gíd
“stretched hand.”
6. Akk. kurkuzannum = Sum. zé.eÓ.tur “little
pig,” rab⁄‰um = nú, with the 2.sg. subject
of ribi‰ denoted by the prefix chain i.ra,
dative “to you.” The derivation of what
lies in between defeats me; as transliterated
the Akkadian can be parsed from ak⁄lum or
tak⁄lum, but neither substantiates the Sumerian, which remains obscure. I have read
l› t⁄takkal (< ak⁄lum I/3, l› of assertion),
91
because the image of a piglet resting after
feeding to excess seems to me suitable.
7. Akk. Ía = Sum. níg, qabûm = di (MSL XIV
134 iii 22: di-idi = qá-bu-ú-um), 1.sg. subject
= gá. There are two explanations for -bi.
First it may convey the final -û of aqabbû
through a syllogism Íunu = bi, Íunu = u, ...
u = bi, i.e. (a) 3.pl. possessive suffix -Íunu =
-bi “their,” (b) Íunu also means 3.m.pl.
nominative “they,” which in verbal conjugation is expressed by final -›, so (c) the
homophonous subordinative ending -u =
-bi. Second, -bi may signify the ana that
introduces the line’s first clause. The latter
cannot be explained by lexical reference
but could have arisen from ancient philological analysis of bilingual phrases such as
ma.da.ma.da.bi.(da) // m⁄ta ana m⁄ta “land
upon land,” where -bi ostensibly corresponds to ana (see already CAD A/2 101).
In the next part of the line, ul = nu and
ap⁄lum = gi4 need no further explanation.
The word read ta-ta-áÍ-ba-a-ma bears no
obvious realation to its Sumerian counterpart, which, as a 2.sg. marû form of the
compound inim—e (marû) / dug4 (Óamˇu)
“you can <not> say a word,” is actually
more appropriate to the situation than any
parsing of the Akkadian. With some reservation I transcribe tattaÍbâmma and derive it
from Íebûm IV/1 “to be sated,” but there
can be little doubt that what was intended
was ta-qá-ab-ba-a-ma “you speak.” The two
verbs nu.ub.gi4 and <nu>.ub.bé.en are
authentic marû 2.sg. forms, in stark contrast
to the Akkadianizing gá di.bi. Finally, ul =
na (prohibitive) and paÍ⁄rum = búr are routine equations.
8. Akk. p‹Ítum = Sum. in, Í⁄rum = im (or
tu10), me-e-Óu-um is for meÓûm = u18.lu,
k‹ma = àm (as l. 4), ru’tum = uÍ7 (Sag B 348:
uÍ
KA™LI = ru-’-tum), ͤpum = gìr, 2.sg. possessive suffix -ka = -za. This leaves s¤r to
account for i.ib.si.ge.éÍ, where si-(g) is
phonetic for sig18(KIN) “to rub flat” and
additional evidence for the value sig18, first
proposed by Jerrold Cooper in his discus-
92
Babylonian Literary Texts
sion of the verb gìr—KIN (Cooper 1972).
The relevant lexical passages are late:
gìr.sig18.a
= 25 (se-e-ru) Ía ru-ú-ti
“to rub flat
“to rub out, of spittle”
with the foot”
gìr.sig18.dug4.ga = 26 Ía 2
gìr.sig18.ak.a
= 27 Ía 3
gìr.sig18.di
= 28 Ía 4
uÍ11.te
= 29 Ía 5
[uÍ11].sig18.a
= 30 Ía 6
[uÍ11.g]i4.gi4
= 31 Ía 7
Nabn‹tu VII 268–74
= se-e-rum “to rub flat”
[gìr].sig18
[ . . . ].a
= me-e-su “to squash”
[gìr?].sig18.ús.sa = ka-ba-su “to tread on”
ErimÓuÍ II 42–44,
with Cooper 1972: 82
A Sumerian proverb quoted in a fragmentary state by Cooper shows that it was
good manners to destroy the evidence of
spitting by rubbing it into the earth with
one’s foot. Now that the proverb is fully
recovered, we learn that polite Babylonians did the same on expelling nasal
mucus: uÍ7.dug4.ga gìr nu.sig18.a kiri4.te.
en.na saÓar nu.gi4.a . . . níg.gig dutu.kam
“to spit and not rub it out with the foot, to
blow the nose and not ‘turn’ it in the dirt
. . . : these are abominations to the sun
god” (cf. Alster 1997: 80, 3:8, where
kiri4—te(∞) is translated, to less effect, as
“sneeze”).
The Akk. pair Í⁄rum u meÓûm “wind
and storm” are metaphors for empty
words and falsehoods, frequently occurring together in Maqlû as the harmless outcome desired for the sorceror’s wicked
spells, e.g. VIII 57 (ed. Meier 1937: 55):
kiÍ-pu-Íá lu-u Í⁄ru(im) kiÍ-pu-Íá lu-u me-Óu[ú] “May her spells be wind, may her spells
be storm!.” One of Esarhaddon’s Assyrian
advisors, probably IÍtar-Íuma-¤reÍ, blustered similarly in a message to the king
(SAA X 29 rev. 8–11): Ía it-ti Íarri(lugal) ida-bu-ba [su-ul-l]e-e u sur-ra-a-ti [i-Íid-su
m]e-Óu-ú ù pa-na-as-su Íá-a-ru “He who
utters falsehoods and lies to the king, [his
base is] storm and his façade is wind!”
Word order and vocabulary show that this
passage is literary Babylonian, not the
writer’s vernacular Assyrian, and thus
either self-conscious rhetoric adapting
classic imagery to the present need—the
man was surely familiar with Maqlû—or a
quotation of some lost work. On this kind
of “code-switching” see Martin Worthington (2006: 80–81, this passage cited
on p. 75).
9. Akk. erretum = Sum. áÍ, ziq‹qum = líl,
aptum = ab, Í⁄rum = im (or tu10), pîka =
ka.zu; the prepositions k‹ma and ina seem
to have been translated respectively by ba
(or e.ba), which is not supported by the
extant lexical lists, and uÍ, which is
(NBGT II 46 and III iv 10: uÍ = i-na, cf.
Black 1991: 64). The imperative ÓulliqÍi,
lit. “make it disappear,” is rendered by an
indicative form of Óa.lam; this Sum. verb is
more commonly the equivalent of maÍûm
“to forget,” but note Urra I 364 S14:
ba.an.Óa.lam // iÓ-ti-liq “he has disappeared.”
10. Akk. ›mum = Sum. ud (twice), ullûm =
ri.a, sal⁄mum = silim, r¤qum = sud4.rá. Other equivalences call for fuller comment: (a)
Akk. ‰altum usually corresponds to Sum.
du14, written LÚ™NE or LÚ.NE, but here
we seem to have KAM instead of NE, as also
in l. 27, where the compound corresponds
to the cognate verb ‰âlum; du14 signifies
/dud/, so that the resumption of LÚ™
KAM? with /g/ in l. 27 points to some other word. Unfortunately no entry for LÚ™
KAM is preserved in the section of A VII/
2 devoted to compounds of LÚ, and the
entry ka-maLÚ.KAM = a-ta-ru “to exceed” in
a Middle Assyrian version of Ea VII (MSL
XIV 454: 2') offers no solution. (b) al⁄kum
I/2 = rá(DU) is reminiscent of Sb II 16: ri-iri6
(DU) = a-la-ku—which in turn reports the
plural Óamˇu base of Sumerian “to go,” in
Old Babylonian times normally written
re7(DU:DU)—but occurs more nearly in a
The Scholars of Uruk
late commentary on the names of Marduk,
ra
rá = a-la-ku (STC pl. 53: 8, ed. Bottéro
1971: 13). (c) lik›n› “let them become
established” = Óa.ma.ab.gi4 “let it (the time
of friendship) come back” replaces kânum
with a verb that in the context is a near
synonym, but note that gi4 = kânum occurs
in Standard Babylonian bilingual compositions (Nebuchadnezzar and the Seed of
Kingship l. 7, ed. Lambert 1974: 435; M‹s pî
VB 30, ed. Walker and Dick 2001: 197).
The choice of Sumerian verb was surely
influenced also by near homophony with
gi-(n) “(to be) fixed,” written gi.na and
gin. Finally, a grammatical note: ›m is singular construct but here plural in meaning,
so by synesis it is construed with plural
adjectives (ullûtum, r¤q›tum) and governs
plural verbs (littalk›, lik›n›).
11. As in l. 10, Akk. ullûm = Sum. ri.a, al⁄kum
I/2 = rá, kânum = gi4; otherwise, muÍ‹tum
and m›Íum = gi6 present no problem. The
word spelled ez-ze-ri is taken as genitive
plural of a hitherto unattested noun
ezz¤rum, *parr⁄s stem from 3’zr, with the
meaning “habitual curser, foulmouth.”
The equation with Sum. bal attests to an
abbreviation of the compound verb áÍ—
bal “to curse,” usually Akk. naz⁄rum.
Abbreviation of Sumerian compounds is a
conspicuous feature of Babylonian lexicography: pertinent examples are Ea II
107: ba-labal = na-za-ru “to curse” and
ErimÓuÍ I 197: áÍ = e-ze-ru “to curse.”
In reference to time, the adjective
p⁄nûm usually means “former,” the antonym of warkûm “later,” and is so taken
here. It can also mean “first to come,
next,” especially in Old Assyrian, but the
parallel between this line’s m›Íi Íuˇ›bi
p⁄nûtum and ›m sal⁄mi r¤q›tum and Íanat
rit›mi r¤q¤tum in ll. 10 and 12 is not decisive
on this point, for r¤qum can refer equally to
past and future time. The equation of
p⁄nûm and bad.rá “remote” is new, but
unsurprising; bad.(rá) in the temporal sense
of “far-off,” both past and future, is
recorded in the lexical literature in a ver-
93
sion of Proto-Ea (MSL XIV 125: 708–9):
bad = re-e-qum “distant,” ar-kum “later.”
Evidently Íuˇ›bum “to please” corresponds to Sum. Íe.ús, but the latter is a
compound verb Íe—ús meaning “to
thresh” (lit. “tread barley”), attested in Urra
II 338: lú.Íe.ús.sa “man who threshes” =
da-i-Íu “thresher.” I can think only that the
equivalence encountered in the present
passage comes from a misreading of a lost
lexical entry *Íe.ús = di-a-Íum “to thresh”
as *Íe.ús = ˇi-a-bu “to be pleasing”: a
calamitous error!
Like ›m in l. 10, mu-Íi is singular construct; it is bisyllabic because it derives
from a finally weak root (cf. m⁄ri, n‹Íi etc.).
12. As in l. 10, Akk. ullûm = Sum. ri.a, al⁄kum
I/2 = rá, r¤qum = sud4.rá, kânum = gi4; otherwise, Íattum = mu (twice), râmum I/2 =
ki.ág. This leaves the word spelled e-ru-ri,
here parsed as the plural of er›rum, a hitherto unattested *pir›s noun cognate with
ar⁄rum “to revile.” Its Sumerian counterpart is sar.re.eÍ, which can be explained as
(a) the base sar, abbreviated from the compound áÍ—sar “to curse,” and (b) the suffix
-eÍ to mark the word as plural, though of
course the plural suffix -eÍ properly
belongs on verbs, not nouns. For áÍ—sar =
ar⁄rum see a repeated line of bilingual
Lugale, used when Ninurta curses the
stones: áÍ àm.mi.(ni).íb.sar.re // ir-ra-ar-Íu
(ed. van Dijk 1983 ll. 418 // 437 // 481 //
526); for its suffix see Proto-Aa 168:2: eÍeÍ
= ma-du-ú-tum “plural.”
13. Akk. damiqtum “good fortune” = Sum.
níg.ku7.ku7 “sweetness” is an equivalence
that does not grace the extant lexical texts,
so is probably a case in which the author
has chosen a near synonym rather than a
conventional equivalent. In standard Old
Babylonian the first verb should read lirtadde’⁄-ni’⁄ti, in agreement with pl. damq⁄tum.
The spelling li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim may
exhibit the contraction /e’⁄/ > /ê/ but, as
already explained in the introduction, the
final mimation is unwanted. Its Sumerian
counterpart Óé.me.ús was coined probably
94
Babylonian Literary Texts
with the following equivalences in mind:
redûm = ús, precative = Óé- (e.g. A VIII/
1 6 Óe-eÓé = li-i), and acc. 1.pl. -ni’⁄ti “us”
= dat. 1.pl. -me- “for us” (cf. Proto-Aa
71:6: meme = ni-i-nu “we,” Proto-Izi II
Bil. A iv 4': me = ni-[nu], NBGT I 125: me
= ni-nu AN.TA “we, prefix”). The word
su-lu-ma-tum corresponds to níg.silim “salutation” (cf. silim = sal⁄mum and cognates); this compound is a good Sumerian
literary word that occurs in Inanna and
Enki I ii 14 and 26 (ed. Farber-Flügge
1973: 20 and 245) but not so far in any lexical list; suffixed -e.eÍ conveys plurality (cf.
er›r‹ = sar.re.eÍ in l. 12), so the Akkadian
word is plural, sullum⁄tum (II/1 fem. adj.
deployed as abstract noun), and a variant of
the cognate sal‹m⁄tum. Finally, tarûm “to
lead, guide” produces zi-(g) “to rise,
raise.” This is not substantiated by a lexical
entry, but another nuance of tarûm is “to
hold aloft,” of the tail, which was
explained by late commentators thus: Izbu
Comm. 541: ta-ru-ú = Íá-qu-ú “to be
high”; CT 41 30: 4: ta-ru-ú = na-Íu-ú “to
lift up.”
14. As before, Akk. ›mum = Sum. ud (twice),
rêqum = sud4.rá; equally unproblematic are
zenûm = Íà.dab “angry” (cf. ErimÓuÍ II
197: Íà.dab.ba = ze-nu-u), asseverative l› =
Óa- (e.g. Ea IV 109: Óa-aÓa = lu-ú) and
qer¤bum = ku.nu (cf. OBGT IX 152:
ku.nu.a = qí-ri-ib). The word tiˇ›bum is the
I/2 infinitive of ˇi’⁄bum, with expected
metathesis (cf. dâkum : tid›kum). It can be
added to the list of intransitive verbs of
state that employ the I/2 stem compiled by
Michael Streck, who considers that the
stem may have an intensive function with
such verbs (2003a: 53–58). The Sum.
counterpart of tiˇ›bum is ku7-(d) “sweet”
(cf. Proto-Diri Nippur 43: ku-uk-kuku7.ku7 =
ˇa-bu-um // Oxford 43: ku7.ku7 = ˇa-a-buum). In this line the suffix -eÍ, previously
used to denote plurality, occurs on words
that correspond to Akk. singulars. The
author delighted in variation.
15. Akk. annûm = Sum. ne.en, reduplicated
no doubt to convey the plural anni’⁄tim.
The Sum. word is usually spelled ne.e but
instances of ne.en are not rare in Old
Babylonian copies of literary compositions
(Thomsen 1984: 80); note especially
ne.en.nam // an-nu-ú-um in the bilingual
PBS I/2 135 rev. 9" (ed. Cavigneaux 1996:
25). Akk. baÍûm III/1 ought to yield a form
on the base gál; Óé.me.in presents problems, for there is no verbal base in. Since
Sum. Óé.àm means “let it be,” Akk. libÍi,
perhaps Óé.me.in was coined by the
author of this composition as an idiosyncratic way of expressing the causative
liÍabÍi (in = Í›, i.e. the agent of the causative stem in active verbs?). However, the
conventional notion of Babylonian grammarians was that the Akkadian causative
corresponded to the Sumerian locative
infix -ni-, conjugation prefix bí- or pronominal infix -b- (discussed by Black
1991: 30–35).
16. Akk. ullûm, usually Sum. ri.a (as in ll. 10–
12), here gives ne.ri.a, an odd combination
of two different demonstratives, ne “this”
and ri “yonder.” The suffix -aÍ is perhaps
added as a mark of the plural (cf. -eÍ above
and note a commentary on A II/2, MSL
XIV 274 rev. 9': uÍ : aÍ : eÍ : Íu-nu Óa-an[ˇu] “uÍ, aÍ and eÍ = ‘they’, past [tense]”).
Enlil yields e.lum, a common epithet of his
that in the late period was considered
Emesal for alim “bison” (see Emesal Voc.
II 23: e.lum = alim = kab-tum “important,
venerable”). The epithet e.lum is particularly common in liturgical texts (see the
incipits listed by Black 1987: 56), and
became adopted as a name of Enlil (An I
38: [d]e.lum = den-líl; Emesal Voc. I 5: delum = dalim = didim; cf. Idu II 373 = CT
11 32 iv 10: a-li-imalim = den-líl). rêqum II/1
produces ri, a verb normally equated with
rêqum’s synonym, nesûm (cf. also Nabn‹tu
O 167: li.ri = re-e-qu); suffixed -eÍ for -Íin⁄ti
“them” is correct Sumerian according to
normal rules.
The Scholars of Uruk
17. The quadruple Sum. e.zu is partly explained by Proto-Aa 147:1–6: zu-úzu = lama-a-du “to learn,” Íu-du-ú-um “to
inform,” e-du-u “to know,” wu-u[d]-du-ú
“to recognize, etc.,” [a-Óa]-zu “to comprehend,” [ka]-a “your”: the noun iÓzum
or eÓzum “knowledge” is cognate with
aÓ⁄zum, talmadu derives from lam⁄dum.
The third and fourth e.zu probably both
derive from aÓmuˇku (< Óam⁄ˇum A): zu is
a rough homophone of sù in the compound izi—sù.sù “to ‘immerse’ in fire,
scorch” (Nabn‹tu O 54: izi.susù.susù = Óum[mu-ˇu], < Óam⁄ˇum B “to glow hot”); and
-ku(m) “to you” = -zu “your.” Thereafter
Akk. k‹ma ana yâÍim = Sum. gá.àm (yâÍim
“me” = gá “I, me,” k‹ma = àm, as ll. 4 and
8), nû’um “halfwit” = na.gá.aÓ “fool”
(ErimÓuÍ VI 102: na.gá.aÓ = nu-’-ú), atta
“you” = me.en “you are” (Diri Nippur
9:48: me.en = at-ta). Here and in l. 19 the
translation assumes that k‹ma can introduce
rhetorical questions, just as k‹ does.
18. Three of the four verbs that open the
Akkadian line are verbs of sight: naˇ⁄lum,
‰uppûm (‰ubbûm), and am⁄rum. Each is
translated by ì.lá “he/I lifted” because
some lexical entries abbreviate the compound verb igi—lá “to lift the eye, glance”
to its verbal component only. Pertinent
are: Silbenvokabular A C: 16: lá.a = na-ˇalum (ed. Sollberger 1965: 25), Ea I 247:
la-a
lá = a-ma-ru, Nabn‹tu I 207: lá = a-ma-ar[u], Sa Voc. Q 24': la-allal = a-ma-r[u]. The
third verb is taken as uÍÍir, hitherto unattested II/1 of aÍ⁄rum “to inspect, check,” a
partial synonym of am⁄rum. The rest of the
line is straightforward: ana kâÍim = za.àm;
peÓûm “stopped up, stupid” = pe.el “dirty,
lightweight, unimportant, lowly,” an association of words of different meaning but
roughly synonymous in a scholastic context (cf. OB Lu 337–38: lú.p[e.e]l.lá = qálu-ú, pe-e-Óu-ú, later Uruk IV 190 i 12:
[lú.pe.el.].lá = pe-Óu-u, and Lu I 141o:
[dub.sar].pi.il.lá = pe-Óu-[u]); an⁄ku “I” =
Óé.me.en “indeed I am.” The last sign of
95
the Akkadian line was overwritten by signs
from the reverse.
19. Unproblematic are Akk. târum = Sum. gi4
“to return” and Íanûm = gi4 (cf. L⁄nu B =
CT 19 11a iii 6: gi = Íá-nu-ú); mal⁄kum I/
2 yields gi4 through abbreviation of Sum.
ad—gi4.gi4 “to counsel” (cf. CT 12 29 iv 2:
[gi-igi = m]a-la-ku Íá mil-ki), ap⁄lum likewise
through the abbreviation of inim—gi4 “to
reply” (e.g. Nabn‹tu IV 74: gi4 = a-p[a-lu]).
The remainder of the line replicates the
second half of l. 17, q.v.
20. Akk. al⁄kum = Sum. gen(DU), while redûm
yields the same because it is a near synonym of al⁄kum. Note also its equation
with compounds of the sign DU in ProtoDiri (Nippur 95: DU.DU = re-du-ú-um,
Oxford 79: DU.DU= [re]-du-ú) and cf. Proto-Aa (MSL XIV 120: 9: re-eDU:DU = re-edu-um). For Íaˇ⁄rum = DU one resorts to
the compound verb im—gub(DU) “to
inscribe a tablet,” for which see a gloss in
an Old Babylonian copy of the Sargon legend (Cooper and Heimpel 1983: 76 l. 55:
im-ma gub-bu // tu-up-pa iÍ-ˇù-ur-Íu), IgituÓ I i 42: [im].gub = Íá-ˇa-ru, Short IgituÓ
12: gub.ba = Íá-ˇa-a-ru (ed. Landsberger
and Gurney 1957–58: 81), and a Standard
Babylonian bilingual liturgical text (IV R
11 rev. 47–48: dub sa6.ga.na ba.an.gub //
ˇuppi(dub) da-mi-iq-ti-Íú Íu-ˇur). Finally,
naˇûm “appropriate” = DU cannot be substantiated by the lexical lists, but presumably derives from its synonym, Í›lukum
“suitable,” which is cognate with al⁄kum
(DU) and also corresponds to Sum.
túm(DU).ma. The second part of the line
repeats the end of l. 18, except that the
Sum. preformative Óé- is replaced with the
conjugation prefix i-; no doubt this arose
from a confusion of two similar signs. The
last sign of the Akkadian line was overwritten by signs from the reverse.
21. Akk. k‹ma = Sum. gin7, kurkuzannum =
ÍaÓ.zé.eÓ, a compound of the Sumerian
words for “pig” and “piglet” (see
Steinkeller 2007b and cf. l. 6, where k. =
zé.eÓ.tur), libbum = Íà, 2.sg. poss. suffix -ka
96
Babylonian Literary Texts
= -zu, en¤qum “suck (milk)” = ga gu7 “to
consume milk.” The word corresponding
to tulûm should be ubur(DAG.KISIM5™GA),
but here another compound of DAG.
KISIM5 seems to have been preferred.
22. Akk. iÍtu seems to be without formal
equivalent, inanna = Sum. ì.ne.éÍ (ErimÓuÍ
I 14: ì.neni-eÍeÍ = i-na-an-[na]), Íanûm I/2 =
gi4 (cf. above, l. 19). The I/2 stem Íitnûm
was hitherto represented by stative forms
only (Streck 2003a: 35 no. 56). As a I/2 of
an intransitive verb of state it compares
with tiˇ›bum in l. 14. Von Soden’s idea that
the I/2 stem could convey permanence
(GAG §92f) is worth raising in this context, where the speaker wishes for a
change in the addressee’s behavior that
should clearly be more than temporary.
The origin of the Sum. prefix níg- in
níg.gi4.ga.àm is not explicable, unless the
author built a syllogism from lexical
entries Sum. lú “man” = Akk. Ía “the one
who” and níg “thing” = Ía (lú = Ía, níg =
Ía, ... lú = níg), and then considered that
the homophonous Akk. particle l› could
also correspond to Sum. níg.
In the second half of the line Akk. a ibba-aÍ-Íi must signify the IV/1 vetitive ay
ibbaÍi; its counterpart is prohibitive preformative na- + plural predicate meÍ written
me.éÍ: “they must not be.” The noun that
governs ay ibbaÍi defies definite parsing,
beyond identifying it as fem. sing. nom.
No help comes from the Sumerian line,
where there is no obvious correspondence
(lú “man,” an.ta “friend”). The reading of
the signs that write the Akkadian noun is
uncertain, given the similarity of the signs
ta and Ía in this tablet. From the context
the noun should refer to the poor relations
with the addressee that the voice of this
text wishes to consign to the past. A possible etymology is from 3ÍkÍ (= ÍgÍ?) with
both prosthetic and infixed /t/, i.e. ta-aÍta-ku-uÍ-tum; for a comparable noun see
tart⁄mum < 3r’m “mutual love,” as analyzed by Lambert 1987: 35 and n. 24. The
root 3ÍgÍ yields words to do with slaugh-
ter, which is approximately the right
semantic field; forms of Íag⁄Íum with /k/
instead of /g/ occur in Old Babylonian,
most prominently in Samsuiluna’s building inscription from KiÍ (YOS IX 35 98:
Ía-ka-aÍ, 115: iÍ-ki-iÍ).
23. Akk. ˇupÍarrum = Sum. dub.sar, emqum =
kù.zu; both Sumerian words are turned
feminine by the addition of munus “woman,” corresponding in place and function
to Akk. -at. The addition of munus has the
same function in the god list An = Anum,
where aÍÍassu “his wife” is rendered into
academic Sumerian as gender-specific
dam.bi.munus instead of gender-neutral
dam.a.ni. In commenting on Kassite-period Sumerian, W. G. Lambert has cited this
construction as an example of “new grammatical forms being created on the model
of Akkadian” (1975: 222). The name of
the patron deity of scribes, the goddess
Nissaba, is here and in ll. 24–25 written
eight times in the old-fashioned way,
d
níssaba(NAGA), once with a gloss, dníssaba
(NAGA)ba, and once syllabically (on writings of this divine name see Michalowski
2001: 575–76). The new syllabic spelling
(also in l. 49) is further evidence of the
name’s pronunciation, confirming the
double /ss/ long advocated by W. G.
Lambert (1983a: 65–66, 2003), and marking the second syllable long: Niss⁄ba.
24. Unlike in the previous line, enclitic -ma
here finds expression in the Sumerian as
enclitic -àm. Otherwise, Akk. b¤ltum =
nin (twice), uznum = géÍtug, and taÍ‹mtum
= bàn.da (Proto-Diri Nippur 6:28 //
Oxford 443: bàn.da = ta-Íi-im-tum). The
possessive constructions are signified in the
Sumerian not by adding the genitive
postposition (-ak), but by a reversal of the
normal word order.
25. Akk. Íumum = Sum. mu, ‰‹rum = maÓ,
k‹ma = gin7 are straightforward. r¤Ítum
yields mud5.me.gar because mud5.me.gar
= r‹Í⁄tum “jubilation” (ErimÓuÍ IV 86:
mud5.me.gar = ri-Ía-a-tu), and r‹Í⁄tum is a
near homophone of r¤Í⁄tum “first fruits,”
The Scholars of Uruk
the plural of r¤Ítum. The latter part of the
correspondence niqûm = ZÉ.sag suggests
that the author had in mind the equation
ne-sag, nisag = niqûm (Ea III 175 // A III/
3 221: ni-sagnisag(MURUB4) = ni-qu-u; Sb II
87 ditto); perhaps ZÉ is a mistake for NE or
MURUB4, both of which are similar signs.
The final word of the Akkadian line has a
Sum. counterpart ending in the reduplicated verbal base i.i “to send forth.” In the
present context this base is probably an
abbreviation of the compound ár—i.i “to
praise,” which suggests that the difficult
Akkadian word should share the semantic
field of nâdum “to pay honor,” the usual
counterpart of (ár)—i.i. Given the relatively clear i-ni-in I can only suggest a derivation from the root that gives utnennum
“to pray, beseech” (hardly from en¤num B
“to punish” in this context). If i-ni-in-Íu is
the correct reading, this must be a spelling
of enin-Íum, the imperative of the I/1 stem
hitherto attested only as the infinitive
en¤num in lexical lists, against other Sumerian words (Proto-Diri “202” [CAD E
163, passage not reconstructed in MSL
XV]: ér “weep” = e-ne-nu-um, Nabn‹tu
XXII 180: Íà.ne.al.ak.a, AN.fiÚ.gar = e-nenu). At the beginning of the line Íumum
‰‹rum is thus left in casus pendens, but
resumed by the prepositions suffixed to
inin in this line and to takni’⁄tim in the
next.
As interpreted here, the two lines
make a couplet that observes the different
functions of the poem’s voice and addressee in response to their divine patron’s
name: the former vows to hold it in honor
(l. 26), while the latter is enjoined to make
it an object of devotion (l. 25). The name
stands for its owner in that it has taken loving care of the authorial voice. But, as we
shall see, the reading of the verb of l. 26 is
also open to doubt.
26. Akk. takn‹’⁄tum = Sum. mí, abbreviated
from mí—dug4 = kunnûm “to cherish,
honor”; k‹n⁄tum = zi.dè.eÍ, where eÍ is
probably added to zi-(d) to convey plural-
97
ity (as in ll. 13 and 14); nom. ki-na-tum is a
slip for acc. k‹n⁄tim. In the next phrase
k‹ma = gin7, qer‹tum = kaÍ.dé.a, leaving
isinnum = zé, which is obscure, unless
either phonetic for ezen or a plain error for
intended ezen. At the end of the line, k‹ (if
correctly read) = ki (for which I have no
explanation beyond the obvious) and rabîÍ
= gal.le.eÍ (e.g. the Íuilla-prayer IV R 9
obv. 15–16, ed. Sjöberg 1960: 166 l. 8:
gal.le.eÍ // ra-biÍ). The two verbs of the
respective versions are wish-forms; they
do not match for person, but the equation
of first person with third was no doubt
derived from an entry such as that found in
the Old Babylonian vocabulary PRAK II
C 38: 5'–6': Óé = lu-ú, li-i. There remains
some doubt about the reading of the
Akkadian verb. The position adopted here
is that the scribe began by writing lu”id
“let me pay honor” but then converted
what he had written into ludlul “let me
sing praise”; the result is a broken writing
of ludlul, to add to the sixteen examples of
Cu-iC for CuC collected under type 1 in
Brigitte Groneberg’s typology (1980b:
157). Neither verb, nâdum nor dal⁄lum, sits
well with Sum. gá.gá “to set (marû),” and
the present solution is put forward with
some reserve.
27. Akk. k‹ma = Sum. àm (see above, ll. 4, 8,
17), tappûm “colleague” = lú “man,” ú-ruum = urim5(fiEfi.AB)ki, u = -bi.Íè (cf. -bi.
da), ni-ip-pu-ru = nibruki. Trisyllabic spellings of Nippur as Nippuru are routine in
Akkadian contexts (e.g. Urra XXI 1 and
other refs. collected by Klein 2001: 533;
also above, the composition published
here as Text No. 7: 10, 14). The spelling of
Ur, however, calls for comment. This toponym is usually vocalized Uri(m): the final
/m/ is supplied by dozens of Sumerian
instances of the name, resumed with -ma,
while the vocalization is supported (a) by
the syllabic Sumerian spellings ù.ri.ma
(locative) in the cult-song VAS II 4 v 33
// 36 (Falkenstein 1963: 64; other instances collected by Sjöberg 1960: 92), and [ù-
98
Babylonian Literary Texts
r]i-na in the Inanna liturgy VAS II 48: 11
(ed. Bergmann 1964: 1), (b) by the gloss in
Diri IV 83: ú-riúri(fiEfi.UNUG)ki = fiU, and
(c) by other first-millennium scholarly
texts that render the toponym as ú-ri (geographical list MSL XI 54 i 6–9; UET VII
147 rev. i 4: ki.in.gi = ú-ri) and ú-ri[ki]
(ziqqurrat list George 1993a: 49 ll. 15'–16').
Text No. 7 in this book confirms this
vocalization in an Old Babylonian context
(l. 20: [ú-ri]-im mu-Ía-ab dsîn). However,
there is also evidence for the vocalization
known to our author, i.e. Urum, on both
sides of Sumero-Akkadian equations in
Old Babylonian and later lexical texts:
Proto-Diri Oxford 526: fiEfi.ABki = ú-r[uum] // Nippur 4:09: [fiEfi.ABk]i = u4-ru, later Urra XXI 16–18: fiEfi.UNUGú-rum.ki,
ki.in.giki, urum(N≤NDA™Ú.RUM)ú-ru.ki = ú[rV], Section 2:5: fiEfi.UNUGú-ru.ki = ú-[rV].
The first-millennium spellings uruú-ruki and
ú-ru (collected by Zadok 1985: 321) thus
report a genuine pronunciation.
As in l. 10, the author avoids the conventional equation du14(LÚ™NE, LÚ.NE) =
‰âlum, opting instead for a different compound of LÚ (see further the note on that
line).
28. The usual Sum. equivalence of Akk.
t¤‰‹tum is a.da.mìn, which often signifies
literary disputation (see Alster 1990: 2), but
here (and in l. 61) t¤‰‹tum = è “to go out”
because it is cognate with wa‰ûm “to go
out.” In a similarly academic context a
Middle Assyrian scholar used Sum.
a.da.mìn to mean not quarrel but “exit,
end” (Lambert 1976: 90 l. 5 and textual
note). An Old Babylonian attestation of
t¤‰‹tum not booked by the dictionaries is
the omen apodosis Íarrum(lugal) ti-‰i-tam ira-Íi “the king will pick a quarrel” (YOS X
60: 6). The equation iÓzu = níg.zu occurs
also in Examenstext D, a late bilingual
Edubba-text (Sjöberg 1972: 126–27 l. 14:
níg.zu diri.ga // iÓ-zu Íu-tu-ru). The 3.pl.
possessive suffix on iÓzum is rendered by
á.bi.eÍ; both bi and eÍ are equated with
Íunu (e.g. A II/4 183: e-eÍeÍ = Íu-nu “they,”
V/1 138: bi-ibi = Íu-nu “their”), but it is not
clear whence was derived Sum. á “arm,
strength.” naz⁄rum = bal (as Ea II 107,
quoted above, on l. 11), kar⁄bum = Íu.mú
(as in several late bilinguals, see CAD K
193), ep¤Íum = ak (where final dè may also
be read ne, as an indication of plural ‹puÍ›).
The transposition of bal and Íu.mú was
perhaps motivated by knowledge of the
compound verb bala—ak “to transport.”
29. Akk. ana = Sum. -Íè. Ekur of Enlil and
EkiÍnugal of the moon-god are the principal cult-centers of Nippur and Ur respectively (George 1993a gazetteer nos. 677
and 653).
30. Akk. Í⁄rum = Sum. [im (or tu10)]; the
expression Í⁄rum al⁄kum means “to blow,
of wind,” not quite synonymous with
Sum. im zi “to start blowing, get up, of
wind” (Akk. Í⁄rum tebûm). The exact
phrase Í⁄rum ⁄likum occurs in an OB
incantation, where it carries a message, as
here (Sigrist 1987: 87 ll. 4–5: a-na Ía-ri-im
a-li-ki-im qí-bi-a-ma “say to a passing
breeze”). It is a more technical term in an
astrologer’s letter to Esarhaddon (SAA X
26 rev. 8: Íá-a-ri a-li-ku “the prevailing
wind”). Íemûm = giÍ—tuk, enclitic -ma =
enclitic -àm, maÓrum = sag (Idu I 119: saag
sag = maÓ-ru), 3.pl. suffix -Íunu = 3.pl.
suffix -(a).ne.ne, waÍ⁄bum = tuÍ. Final -bi
on the Sumerian verb was no doubt added
to convey the plural person of the verb
uÍb›, i.e. “they” (cf. A V/1 138: bi-ibi = Íunu “their”). In Kassite-period seal inscriptions final -bi on a verb is used otherwise
to express the Akk. 3.m.sg dative -Íum
(Lambert 1975: 222). While ba.a.tuÍ.bi and
uÍb› thus corroborate each other, I cannot
make sense of a plural verb in the context.
As I understand the plot, the wind carries
the sounds of the quarrel to the gods, with
the eventual result that Sîn goes to visit
Enlil. The logical consequence of the
wind hearing the scholars’ curses (iÍm¤ma)
is that it communicates them to the gods
itself, without intermediary. “They sat” is
clearly out of place, and this translation
The Scholars of Uruk
assumes uÍ-bu is for ›Íib “it sat.” An alternative solution would be to take it as an
error for uÍ-bi < Íube’û, to be translated “it
rushed” or similar. On this verb see
Groneberg 1981: 124 sub vi 38, and CAD
fi/3 171 s.v.; but note that Groneberg now
parses uÍ-bi in AguÍaya vi 38 from waÍ⁄bum
(1997: 91 sub 45).
31. Akk. m⁄rum = Sum. dumu, kunnûm =
zi.dè ág (the sign that looks like NE™TAB is
certainly a cursive ág, as too in ll. 12, 41):
kunnûm is usually mí—dug4 but the author
no doubt had in mind the common
expression mí.zi.dè.eÍ—dug4 “to treat
with steadfast kindness” (Akk. k‹niÍ kunnûm), as well as the less well-known mí—
ág = kunnûm (Emesal Voc. III 169–71),
from which he concocted *zi.dè—ág =
kunnûm. Óam⁄ˇum A “to hurry” = tab
because lexical texts pair Sum. tab with
Óam⁄ˇum B “to glow hot” (e.g. Sb II 68).
At the end of the line, a‰-‰¤r = ki (cf.
Nabn‹tu XXI 205: [(x)].ki = a‰-‰er), while
il-ik = DU.DU calls for the obvious emendation. Less easy is the remaining equivalence, abum = zu? (or ba!?). If the sign is ba,
this may be derived either by abbreviation
from ab.ba = abum or by homophony
from Proto-Ea 81: pa-apap, Proto-Aa 81:5:
[pa]-appap = a-bu-um. If it is zu, I have no
suggestion.
32. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. [mu], l⁄ = nu, libb⁄tum
= mùrgu “hackle” (Ea III 121 // App. A iv
3': mur-gumùrgu(KA™NE) = lib-ba-a-tu),
abum = pap; éÍ is added to mùrgu to convey plurality (just as its homophone eÍ is
used in ll. 13, 14, 26), while bi “its” is prefixed to pap to signify the 3.sg. pronominal
suffix -Íu “his.” In the phrase aÍÍum l⁄
libb⁄ti ab‹Íu, the retention of the case vowel
on the genitive construct state is reminiscent of Old Akkadian grammar and can be
explained as an archaic feature.
33. Akk. Íam⁄rum = Sum. GÌR; for the other
equivalences see l. 32. The sign GÌR can be
reconciled with Íam⁄rum “to become
fierce” through either of two readings: (a)
ÓúÍ (see Proto-Ea 567: Óu-uÍGÌR), cf. Proto-
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
99
Izi I 123: Óu-uÍÓuÍ glossed Ía-am-rum
“fierce,” or (b) mirix (see Proto-Ea 565: miri
GÌR), which is a homophone of mir “furious” (Akk. ezzum).
Akk. aÍ⁄Íum = Sum. si (Izi Bogh. A 193:
[si] = a-Ía-Íum), ad⁄rum IV/1 = [diri] (Proto-Diri Nippur 11 // Oxford 8 // Sippar
9: di-riSI.A = na-aÓ-du-ru).
Akk. abum = Sum. a.a, gerûm = [si?] (Antagal G 140: si = ge-ru-ú).
Akk. ÍalˇiÍ = Sum. gá.e.eÍ can be substantiated lexically (cf. AO 7092 ii 7: gá.gá =
Íá-la-ˇu, ed. Thureau-Dangin 1919: 165–
66; Aa II/4 186: e-eÍeÍ = ki-ma “like,” i.e.
comparative). However, awûm I/2 “to
converse” = Íu—bal “to exchange”
chooses the wrong compound verb:
inim—bal is “to converse,” but note this
compound abbreviated to its verbal component only in Izi Bogh. D ii' 4': bal.bal =
at-m[u-u] “to converse,” Nabn‹tu IV 321:
bal.bal.e = at-mu-ú.
Akk. qabûm (Óamˇu) = Sum. e (marû).
Akk. nabûm = Sum. bi (Aa VI/1 140: bi-ibi
= na-bu-u), an equation that presumably
arose through a misparsing of the sign bi in
the many instances in which it concludes
marû forms of e “to say” (i.e. -b+e, written
bé, as in l. 37).
If Akk. maÓrûm “first” = Sum. igi “front,”
then Íitt⁄n “two-thirds” = ÍúÍana “onethird,” which is curious, and abum, which
should fall between them, has no Sumerian counterpart. Perhaps igi.ÍúÍana is itself
the rendering of Íitt⁄n “two-thirds.” Otherwise, kal⁄ma “everything” = téÍ.ta “on
all sides,” a near synonym (normally téÍ =
mitÓ⁄riÍ “everywhere” but cf. K 2356: 2–3:
téÍ Íu.dím.ma // ba-nu-ú ka-la-ma, copy
Hehn 1905: 388). Both leqûm and Íar⁄kum
could have yielded i.ib.ri: if leqûm, cf.
Nabn‹tu XIV 252: da.ri = [leqû Íá li-qu-ti]
“to take in adoption”; if Íar⁄kum, the
equation arose either by near homphony
from the verbal component of the compound sag—rig7 “to bestow” (e.g. ProtoDiri Nippur 374 // Oxford 279 // Sippar
100
Babylonian Literary Texts
7:09: [ri-i]grig7 = Ía-ra-kum), or by abbreviation from i.ri (Nabn‹tu XVII 49: i.ri = Íara-ku). The word maÓri’⁄ti is taken as an
old-fashioned 2.m.sg. stative (pars⁄ti);
alternatively it might be a f.pl. adjective,
written without mimation.
40. Akk. taÍr‹t ab‹Íu = Sum. [...]x.ba: the trace
does not suggest a]b.ba from abum, so I
assume the partly preserved Sumerian
word derived instead from taÍr‹tum
“beginning” and refer to Proto-Aa Geneva 465: tab = Íu-ru-ú “to begin” (ed. MSL
IX 133). Further on, isqum = Sum. giÍ.Íub,
Íi’⁄mum = tar, abbreviated from nam—tar
“to determine destiny,” as Proto-Aa
Geneva 604: [ta-artar = Íi-a]-mu (ed. MSL
IX 136), restored after e.g. A III/5 122:
ta-ár
tar = Íá-a-mu. The Akkadian word
written a-li-a-am evidently yields Sum.
na.an. This is hardly the nisbe adjective
derived from ⁄lum, which is known only
in Assyrian. I take the Sumerian as a
demonstrative, i.e. a variant of ne.en
“this” (see Ea IV 105 ni-ena na-nu-u = Íu-ú).
The Akkadian is either (a) a mistake for anni-a-am, (b) an unexpected virtuoso spelling a-ni8(LI)-a-am for anni’am, or (c) a surprising instance of allû, a variant of
demonstrative ulli’um “that” known hitherto from peripheral dialects of the later
second millennium (Nuzi and Ugarit). In a
text not given to the unconventional spelling of Akkadian words, nor to outlandish
dialect, solution (a) is preferable.
41. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. mu, râmum = ág
(twice, abbreviated from ki—ág as in l.
31), Ea = Enki. In this passage the conjugation prefix /ma/ was apparently chosen
to mark the involvement of the first person
singular, so that here ma.àm = “me,” in l.
42 ma.ra = “I,” and in l. 43 ma.àm = “I”;
no doubt this is because /ma/ often conveys a 1.sg. dative pronominal reference.
This leaves Akk. i-te-e and Sum. íb.ta to be
explained. The sequence íb.ta looks like a
verbal prefix chain conveying the idea
“with it” (i-b+ta). It can hardly be taken as
part of the prefix chain of ág, because the
conjugation prefixes /i/ and /mu/ (/ma/
in ma.àm.ág) are mutually exclusive. Thus
it corresponds to i-te-e, an equivalence that
rests perhaps on ta = itti “with.” The
Akkadian word i-te-e is itself difficult. Syntactically, it looks like a noun in apposition
to the subject, but this does not satisfy in
meaning: the god Ea could hardly be
invoked by a scholar as itê “my neighbor.”
With some reservation itê is taken instead
as an adverbial accusative, literally “my
side,” reinforcing the accusative 1.c.sg.
suffix -anni “me.”
42. Akk. inanna = Sum. ne.ta (cf. the OB
bilingual VAS XVII 35: 5–6: e.ne.Íè // ina-an-na), enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm,
preposition ana = postposition -Íè, Ea =
Enki, demonstrative Í› = suffix -bi, p⁄num
“face” = sag (abbreviated from sag.ki
“forehead,” as in Idu I 120: sa-agsag = panu), kittum = zi (twice) because zi-(d) =
k‹num “true,” naÍûm = zi (e.g. Idu I 141: [zii
zi] = na-Íu-ú), -Íu(m) “to him” = 3.c.sg.
dative infix -(an)-na-. Given the place of
sag after the second zi, in contravention of
the expected word order, it may be that
the author also had in mind as the equivalent of naÍûm the compound sag—zi “to
raise the head, stand out, stand up,”
though the nominal part of the compound
would be an unnecessary embellishment.
43. Comparison with the sign Íà as written
elsewhere on the tablet (ll. 45, 48) shows
that what precedes gíd is not plain Íà but
fiÀ+DIfi; this is understood as Íà.gè for
Sum. Íag4+e (terminative). Because it lacks
a pronominal suffix Íà.gè.gíd corresponds
not to ana r¤m‹Íu but to accusative r¤mam,
and calls to mind the calqued idiom Íà.Íè
gíd // ana libbim Íad⁄dum “to be mindful.”
Akk. ana r¤m‹Íu = Sum. GÁ.bi.Íè (where
GÁ is an abbreviation for GÁ™SAL = arÓuÍ
= r¤mum), arÍi = ma.àm.tuk, 2.m.sg. dative
suffix -kum “to you” = 3.sg impersonal
genitive suffix -bi “its.” In making the last
correspondence the author probably had
in mind the ancient grammarians’ equation bi = atta “you” (e.g. A V/1 158–59:
The Scholars of Uruk
bi-e
bi = at-ta), which interprets the conjugation prefix /bi/ as a mark of a secondperson subject in imperative and indicative
verbs (see Black 1991: 95). But note that
Kassite-period seal inscriptions add -bi to a
verb to express a dative pronoun (Lambert
1975: 222).
44. Akk. Íi’⁄mum II/1 “to determine destiny”
= Sum. dím “to make,” an example of
roughly synonymous equation. The II/1
stem of Íi’⁄mum otherwise occurs only in
academic contexts: a bilingual inscription
of Tukult‹-Ninurta I (Lambert 1976: 90 l.
9: ba.tar.re // ú-Íi-ma) and a bilingual
incantation (CT 16 47: 207–8: nu.mu.
un.tar.ra // la Íum-mu). The word following uÍ‹mma is taken as demonstrative
anni’amma, but with some reservation
because a plene spelling of the vocalic onset
of annûm is unusual and Akk. annûm =
Sum. ma.àm has no lexical justification. In
this text ma.(àm) can signify the involvement of the first person singular, as in the
verbal prefix chains of ll. 41–43. Here I can
only suggest that the author comes up with
anni’amma = ma.àm by using the near
homophony of the demonstrative anni’am
and the 1.sg. accusative suffix -anni; in that
case, enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, as often in
this text. Otherwise the correspondences
are straightforward: Akk. uznum = Sum.
géÍtug, ana = -Íè, ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.sg. possessive suffix +
locative -gá.a, Íar⁄kum = ri (as above, l. 39).
45. Akk. prep. ina = Sum. postp. -a, libbum =
Íà, m⁄tum = ma.da, 1.sg. possessive suffix
-ia = 1.sg. possessive suffix + genitive -gá,
baÍûm III/1 = gál. Two abbreviated correspondences remain: n¤mequm = kù.zu,
from nam.kù.zu “wisdom,” and d⁄rûm =
gi16(GIL), from gi16.sa “eternal” (as in two
parallel inscriptions of Samsuiluna,
E4.3.7.8: 86: gi16.sa.aÍ ak.a // E4.3.7.7:
134: da-rí-um, ed. Frayne 1990: 388–91).
46. Akk. iÍtu an›m‹Íu = Sum. ud.bi.ta “since
that time,” enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm,
apkallum = abgal, elûm I/1 = e11, Óassum =
gaÍam (Diri IV 76: ga-Íá-amNUN.ME.TAG =
101
Óa-as-su), pûm = ka; petûm I/1 = K≤D is
based either on abbreviation of the compound gál—tag4(K≤D) = petûm (an abbreviation which is common in late
bilinguals) or on the less well-known lexical entry gix(K≤D) = petûm (Sa Voc. Emar
751': K≤D = pè-tu-u, ed. Arnaud 1987 no.
537; Recip. Ea A ii 80: [ge-eK≤D] = pe-tu-ú).
The derivation of gá.Ía (or gá.ta) is unclear; if it is a gloss on gaÍam, the author has
overlooked a phonological detail, that the
Sumerian word begins with /g/ not /∞/.
47. Akk. ˇupÍarr›tum = Sum. nam.dub.sar.ra,
ana = -Íè, é.kur = ekurrum “sanctuary,”
⁄lum = ri (i.e. through rí, an old value of
uru = iri, the Sum. sign for “town”), 1.sg.
possessive suffix -ia = 1.sg. verbal suffix -en
“me” (cf. NBGT I 57: en = ia-ti “me”),
Íal⁄lum = gíd (cf. Izi F 114: gú.gíd = Íul-lulu). The context determines that the subject of iÍlul is the agent of ll. 46 and 48, the
sage who brought learning to Uruk;
ˇupÍarr›tum is thus its object, and displays
the wrong case.
48. If correctly deciphered, Akk. Íumerum =
Sum. en.né and m⁄dum “much” = maÓ
“large.” The latter pair are two near synonyms whose equivalence is recognized in
the lexical lists (e.g. Proto-Aa 451:2: maÓ
= ma-du-u[m]); the former is without
obvious explanation, unless a bizarrely
written abbreviation of eme.gi7 “Sumerian.” Preposition ina = postposition -ta, libbum = Íà, umm⁄num “band of men” = lú
“men,” 1.sg. poss. suffix -ia = 1.sg.
poss.suffix -mu, wal⁄dum II/1 = tu.ud.
49. Akk. rub⁄tum “lady” = Sum. égi.zi, a class
of priestess (Akk. igi‰‹tum), rests on the
equation égi = r. (e.g. Sa Voc. T 2': e-giNIN
= ru-‚baŸ-[tu]). wa‰bum = daÓ.daÓ.e compares with daÓ = wa‰⁄bum “to add on,” the
cognate verb; the adjective wa‰bum, here
in the feminine as an abstract noun, is not
previously attested. Finally, there is
ubaÍÍi’am = mu.ra.an.tuk: the Akkadian
cannot be other than a factitive II/1 stem
of baÍûm “to exist,” where normally the
causative III/1 stem is used. The equation
102
50.
51.
52.
53.
Babylonian Literary Texts
of buÍÍûm “to make exist” and tuk “to
(cause to) have” is based on the near synonymity of these verbs in some contexts;
cf. also OB Lu B ii 27–28: lú Óul nu.tuk
“one having no evil” = Ía i-na l[u-um-nim]
la i-ba-aÍ-Íu-ú “one who is not in [evil]”
(reading i-ba-aÍ-Íum corrected in CAD B
144).
Akk. prep. ina = Sum. postp. -ta, ⁄lum
“city” = uru.gá “my city,” Íumum = mu,
damqum = sa6, Íak⁄num I/1 = gar, atta =
za.a, enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, ul = nu,
Óas⁄sum = sì (Idu II ii 93: si-isì = Óa-sa-s[u],
Antagal A 219: sì = Óa-[sa-su]), 2.m.sg. subject conveyed by infixed -ra-, properly
2.sg. dative. The translation presumes that
ina and Ía are transposed; the emendation
to att⁄ma follows l. 51.
Akk. Óissatum = Sum. sì.sì? (cf. Idu II ii 93:
si-i
sì = Óa-sa-s[u]), m⁄t‹ya = kur.gá, tele’îÍ =
zíb.ba.dè.eÍ (cf. AN.zíb = tel‹tum) in which
-eÍ is comparative (cf. l. 26), nabi’⁄t =
TUK.a.zu? (UET VI 379: 10: [x-x]TUK = nabu-ú-um, probably related to du12 “to sing”
through nubbûm “to lament”), and att⁄ma
ul taÓassas = za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì, as in
the previous line. While ll. 50 and 51 are
parallel, note the variation of person, from
3.sg. to 2.sg., in the respective relative
clauses.
Akk. abum = Sum. bil(NE) (AO 7092 iii
12: NE = a-bu, ed. Thureau-Dangin 1919:
167–69; cf. Lu III iv 73–74a: bìl, a.a.a,
pa4.bíl.gi = a-bi a-bi “grandfather”) also
occurs in l. 56. Otherwise, prep. ana
(muÓÓi) = postp. -ta (Proto-Aa no. 7 ii 26:
ta-a
ta = a-‚naŸ; MBGT II 54: ta = a-na),
m⁄rum “son” = lú.tur “child” or similar,
Íaqûm = nim, atta = za.e, prep. ana =
postp. -Íè, anni’⁄t‹ya = ne.e.gá (cf. ne.en =
annûm in l. 15), Óadûm = Óúl.
Akk. Íumum = Sum. na, ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg.
possess. suff. [-ia] = 1.sg. possess. suffix +
enclitic -gá.àm, m⁄tum = kur, -ia “my” =
-bi “its” (cf. NBGT II 257: bi.i = a-na-ku
Íu-a-ti “I . . . him”; etc.), Íumk⁄ma =
na.zu.um, in which na = Íumum again,
2.sg. pron. suff. -zu = 2.m.sg. pron. suff.
-ka and enclitic -(a)m = enclitic -ma. Akk.
Íumum yields Sum. na either through synonymy (Íumum “name, descendant” = na
“man”) or through false etymology of
níg.na.me = mimma ÍumÍu. As with other
nouns from biliteral roots, the construct
state of Íumum can be monosyllabic (Íum)
or, as here, bisyllabic (Íumi); see GAG
§64c. For another bisyllabic instance in
Old Babylonian see the omen apodosis
YOS X 46 iv 18: b⁄rûm(máÍ.Íu.gíd.gíd) Íumi da-mi-iq-tim i-le-eq-qé “the diviner will
win a good reputation.”
54. Akk. n¤mequm = Sum. kù.zu (abbreviated
from nam.kù.zu), ⁄lum = uru, -ia = -gá.
(àm), and Íumk⁄ma = na.zu.um, as in l. 53.
In the damaged part of the line the Akkadian first-person suffix -ia “my” corresponds instead to the pronominal suffix
-en “me” (as already in l. 47). The noun
phrase to which this suffix is attached is
restored as roughly synonymous with
n¤meq ⁄l‹ya, and the Sumerian is therefore
assumed to display inverted word-order:
uznum = géÍtug, m⁄tum = ma.da?
55. Akk. Ellil = Sum. kur.gal “great mountain,” a common epithet of Enlil that is
already entered as one of his names in the
Old Babylonian god list TCL XV 10 i 38–
40: den.líl, dnu.nam.nir, dkur.gal (see further Edzard 1983). At the end of the line it
is difficult to avoid ibni. No lexical evidence supports the equation of banûm “to
make, fashion” with Sum. zi “to rise;
uproot,” but causative zi “to make rise up”
belongs to the same semantic field as
banûm when referring to the growing of
crops, and is consequently interpreted as
ÍubÍû “to bring into being, grow” in a late
commentary on Marduk’s names: En›ma
eliÍ VII 21: (dtu.tu.dzi.kù) mu-Íab-Íi ‰i-im-ri
u ku-bu-ut-te-e mu-kin Óengalli(Óé.gál)
“who brings about plump and heavy
growth, who establishes abundance” //
STC II 51 ii 20: zi = ba-Íu-ú (ed. Bottéro
1977: 7, Talon 2005: 71).
The Scholars of Uruk
56. This line forms a pair with l. 57, which
repeats it but with the common nouns
replaced with proper nouns in inverted
order. That being so, acc. a-ba-am is certainly an error for the nominative. Akk.
abum = Sum. bil has already occurred in l.
52, where bil is also followed by lú.[tur?]
for m⁄rum. At the end, târum = gi4, repeated in l. 57. Akk. li-Óu, for which no decipherable Sumerian counterpart survives
here or in l. 57, is provisionally taken as
subordinative lê’u (instead of le’û), a rare
example of the stative conjugation of le’ûm
“to be capable.”
57. Akk. Sîn “Moon God” = Sum. lugal
“king,” a correspondance that recurs in l.
61; the equation does not appear in the big
Old Babylonian god list, but is known to
An = Anum III 17: dlugal = MIN (d30) (ed.
Litke 1998: 118); Ellil = kur.gal, as already
in l. 55; e.lum is an epithet that has already
occurred in l. 16 as the counterpart of Akk.
Ellil, but here it probably corresponds to
the word that follows, i-[x x]. The end of
the line repeats the end of l. 56.
58. Akk. ina = Sum. [-ta?], ˇ¤mum = Íu (OB
Nigga 282: Íu glossed ˇe-mu-um). At the
end all that remains of the Sumerian counterpart of izuzzum is the sign ib, which is
probably not part of the verbal base but
part of a transposed prefix chain.
59. Akk. u ina Íis‹t corresponds to Sumerian
that has been lost in the break; apkallum (if
correctly restored) = abgal, [apsûm] =
é.abzu, Ea’s cosmic domain and the home
of the apkallum-sages. After the break,
Íak⁄num IV/1 = gar is a standard equation.
60. Akk. ˇupÍarr›tum = Sum. nam.dub.sar.ra,
b‹t N[ippuru] = Nibru, raÍûm III/1 = tuk.
61. Akk. t¤‰‹tum = Sum. è, as in l. 28; Sîn =
lugal, as in l. 57. If ik‰ir› is correctly read,
it displays vowelling of an i/i class verb;
ka‰⁄rum is normally a/u class, but note
fiumma izbu XXI 3: Íarru(lugal) m⁄ta(kur)
kal‹Íu(dù.a.bi) i-ke-‰í-ir “the king will unite
the whole nation.” The derivation of li-ik‰í-ir or li-ik-sí-ir in divination prayers
103
remains uncertain (Starr 1983: 31 l. 32, 73,
124 l. 12).
62. Akk. [?] = Sum. gi6 “night,” kallatum =
é.gi4.a, kuttumum = Íú, sa6 = ˇâbum II/1 (cf.
Proto-Aa no. 7 ii 10: sa6 = ˇa-bu). A very
similar form of words occurs in Maqlû I 2:
mu-Íi-tum kal-la-tum kut-túm-tum “Night,
veiled bride,” which an ancient commentary explains as a reference to Gula, the
daughter-in-law of Enlil in Ekur (KAR 94:
6', restored from CAD K 82). Elsewhere,
in a ritual prayer, the Wagon-constellation
is similarly invoked as kal-lat é.kur kul-lultum “veiled bride of Ekur” (STT 73: 77
// YOS XI 75: 2 // UET VII 118 22', ed.
Butler 1998: 358). In the present line the
first word of the Akkadian can hardly be
read muÍ‹tum or even m›Íum “night,”
however. Given the evidence of the commentary on Maqlû, a possible reading is
‚dŸ[me.m]e, a name of Gula already in use
in the Old Babylonian period, if Silbenvokabular A is correctly restored (BM
13902 i 1: [me.m]e = dg[u-la], ed. Sollberger 1965: 22). Another possible reading is
‚dŸ[níssab]a. It is not easy to decide between
the two. Some theological background is
necessary.
Twelfth-century copies of the Silbenvokabular from Emar and Ugarit equate
d
me.me with both Gula and Nissaba: Emar
603: 7–8 // RS 17.41 obv. 10–11: me.me
= dgu-la, dníssaba (ed. Arnaud 1987: 194,
Nougayrol 1965: 34). An expanded form
of the name is dme.me.sa6.ga “Lovely
Meme” (Krebernik 1993). This name has a
longer history, for it appears paired with
Lugalgusisu in an Ur III offering list from
Drehem (TCL II 5501 rev. i 30–31, see
Sallaberger 1993 I 104), and is entered
under the section on Ninkarrak-Ninisinna
(Gula) in the big Old Babylonian god list
(TCL XV 10 viii 374). The pairing with
Lugalgusisu, a god of Nippur probably later syncretized with Nergal (George 1993a:
166), links Memesaga to Nippur. The god
list suggests that a syncretism took place
according to which Meme of Nippur was
104
Babylonian Literary Texts
merged with Gula of Isin. Gula rose to
become a prominent member of Enlil’s
household as Ninurta’s bride and Enlil’s
daughter-in-law, whose theology is set out
in Bullussa-rabi’s hymn (Lambert 1967).
Offering lists show that the goddess was
already present at Nippur and in Ekur
under the name Gula in the Old Babylonian period (Richter 1999a: 92). At that
time the sanctuary or shrine called
é.gal.maÓ probably belonged to her
(George 1993a: 88–89 no. 323), while later
she occupied the temple é.ùru.sag.gá
(George 1993a: 158 no. 1208). As Meme,
the bride Gula is thus a good candidate for
the epithet kallatum kuttumtum in this line.
However, there are two reservations: she
has not appeared in the preceding story
and she is not related to Sîn. Her appearance in this line would thus strike one as
unconvincing.
The alternative is Nissaba, whether
written dme.me or dníssaba. Like Gula, this
goddess belonged to the family of Enlil,
but she has the additional advantages of
seniority, being Sîn’s grandmother (see the
introduction), and of having already
appeared in the text, when invoked as the
patroness of scribes (ll. 23–26). As already
argued in the introduction, it would be
highly appropriate, in an Edubba composition, for Nissaba, the patron deity of
scribes, to resolve the dispute of rival
scholars.
63. The line is a standard Sumerian doxology,
and the Akkadian is secondary: Sum. a.a =
Akk. abum, Enki = Ea, zà.mí = tanittum,
dùg.ga = [ˇ⁄bum]. While a similar doxology ended Lugale, the bilingual version
replaces the adjective dùg with maÓ:
nir.gál a.a.ugu.na zà.mí.zu maÓ.a // e-tel abi a-li-di-Íu ta-na-ta-ka ‰i-rat “O champion
of the father who sired him, your praise is
sublime!” (Lugale bil. 728, ed. van Dijk
1983 II 181).
COMMENTARY
The matters arising from the presentation of this
startling new piece of prose are several. First is
the nature of the Sumerian translation, and the
commentary will begin by sorting into categories the techniques employed in composing it.
The implications of the composition for the history of Sumerian will then be considered. Finally, the commentary will explore the composition’s place and function in the Babylonians’
literary system.
Techniques of Translation
The techniques of translation employed by the
author of this text deserve fuller exploration
than can be made here, but a preliminary analysis can be offered. Some equivalences defy
explanation, but most can be sorted into one of
the following categories.
1. Substitution
a) Substitution of normal Sumerian words
by academic synonyms or near synonyms, often
derived from lexical texts or through cognates:
Íú instead of ki.Íár.ra “totality” (1 kiÍÍatim), rá
instead of ri6 “go” (10, 12 littalk›, 11 littalak), è
instead of a.da.mìn “dispute” (28 t¤‰‹t, 61
t¤‰‹tam), Íu instead of umuÍ “will” (58 ˇ¤m).
b) Substitution of proper nouns by learned
epithets: Íubax instead of unugki “Uruk” (1
Uruk), e.lum and kur.gal instead of den.líl (16, 57
Ellil), lugal “king” instead of dnanna (57, 61 Sîn).
c) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by a near synonym: è “to go forth”
instead of bùlug “to grow up” (2 tarbû), ka
“mouth” instead of ká “doorway” (4, b⁄b),
níg.ku7.ku7 “sweetness” instead of níg.sig5.ga
“good fortune” (13 damq⁄tum), ri “yonder”
instead of bad “apart” or sud “distant” (16 lir‹q),
lú “man” instead of an.ta “colleague” (27 tappê!), pap “senior kinsman” instead of a.a, ad etc.
“father” (32–34 ab‹Íu), téÍ.ta “everywhere”
instead of dù.a.bi “everything” (39 kal⁄ma), dím
“to make” instead of nam—tar “to determine
destiny” (44 uÍ‹m), lú “men” instead of érin
“band of men” (48 umm⁄n⁄t‹ya), égi.zi “priest-
The Scholars of Uruk
ess” instead of égi “lady” (49 rub⁄tum), tuk “to
have” instead of gál “to exist” (49 ubaÍÍi’am), bil
“paternal ancestor” instead of a.a, ad etc.
“father” (52 abum, 56 abam), lú.[tur] “child”
instead of dumu “son” (52 m⁄rim, 56 m⁄ram).
d) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by a near homophone: gìn instead of
gin7 “like” (1 k‹ma), ka instead of ká (4 b⁄b), búr
instead of bùr (4 pilÍim!), si-(g) instead of sig18 (8
s¤r), gi4 instead of gi.(n) “to be firm” (10–12
lik›n›), zu instead of sù (17 aÓmuˇku), perhaps
also zé instead of ezen “festival” (26 isin),
ÓúÍ(GÌR) or mirix(GÌR) instead of ÓuÍ “angry”
or mir “furious” (33 Íam⁄r), ri instead of rí = iri
“city” (47 ⁄l‹ya).
e) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by another value of the sign in question:
gen(DU) instead of (im)—gub(DU) “to write”
(20 a͡uru), gen(DU) instead of túm(DU).(ma)
“suitable” (20 naˇû). This and the following category are based on syllogism: if a = b and b = c
then a = c.
f) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by the equivalence of an Akkadian
homophone: zu (for sù, Akk. Óam⁄ˇum B)
instead of ul4 “to hurry” (17 aÓmuˇku < Óam⁄ˇum
A), mud5.me.gar (Akk. r‹Í⁄tum) “jubilation”
instead of sag or nisag “first fruits” (25 r¤Í⁄t), tab
(Akk. Óam⁄ˇum B) “to glow hot” instead of ul4
“to hurry” (31 iÓmuˇ < Óam⁄ˇum A), du12(TUK)
“to sing” (cf. Akk. nubbûm “to sing a lament”)
instead of sa4 “to call by name” (51 nabi’⁄t).
g) Substitution of a normal compound sign
by a simplified sign or an obscure variant of the
compound: GÁ instead of arÓuÍ(GÁ™SAL) (43
r¤mam), LÚ™KAM? instead of du14(LÚ™NE) (10
‰altim, 27 ‰âlum), DAG.KISIM™KAM? instead of
ubur(DAG.KISIM™GA) (21 tulê).
2. Abbreviation
Many compound Sumerian expressions are
abbreviated: níg for níg.nam “something” (3
mimmûm), bal for áÍ—bal “to curse” (11
ezz¤rum), sar for áÍ—sar “to curse” (12 er›rum),
zu for izi—sù.sù “to scorch” (17 aÓmuˇku), lá for
igi—lá “to glance” (18 aˇˇul etc.), gi4 for ad—gi4
“to counsel” (19 mitlik) and inim—gi4 “to
reply” (19 apul), gen(DU) for im—gub(DU) “to
105
write” (20 a͡uru), mí for mí—dug4 “to cherish”
(26 takni’⁄t‹Íu), ág for mí.ág “cherished” (31
kunnûm), ri for i.ri or sag—rig7 “to bestow” (39
taÍruk, 44 iÍruk), tar for nam—tar “to determine
destiny” (40 taÍ‹m), ág for ki—ág “to love” (41
tarammanni, irammanni), sag for sag.ki “forehead” (42 p⁄n‹), kù.zu for nam.kù.zu “wisdom”
(45 n¤meqam, 54 n¤meq), gi16 for gi16.sa “eternal”
(45 dari’am), tag4(K≤D) for gál—tag4 “to open”
(46 ipte), gíd for gú—gíd “to take captive,
abduct” (47 iÍlul), zíb.ba for AN.zíb (51 tele’îÍ).
Many of these compounds appear similarly
abbreviated in lexical lists.
3. Artificial Patterning
This technique results in Sumerian phrases
repeated fourfold as counterparts of different
Akkadian words, mostly based on lexical equivalences: e.zu e.zu e.zu e.zu (17 ina eÓiz talmadu
aÓmuˇku), ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá (18 aˇˇul u‰appi uÍÍir
⁄mur), e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 (19 t›r Íini mitlik apul),
ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen (20 allik erde ina Ía
a͡ur›ma naˇû). The technique is related to those
quasi-cryptic spellings that take advantage of the
polyvalence of a particular sign, e.g. °A-°A°A-tum = ’a4-ku6-ku6-tum for akuk›tu, a metereological phenomenon.
4. False Grammar
a) Use of wrong Sumerian pronouns: -gá for
-gu10 “my” (1 ⁄l‹, 5 usukk‹ya, 44 ⁄l‹ya, 50 ⁄lim, 52
anni’⁄t‹ya), -gu10 for -gá “my” (3 b¤l‹ya, b¤lt‹ya),
-zu for -za “your” (9 pîka, 21 libb‹ka), za.a for
za.e “you” (2 atta), -en “me” for “my” (47 é.kur
ri.en.Íè // ana ekur ⁄l‹ya, 54 [ma.d]a? géÍtug.en
// uzun m⁄t‹ya), -bi “its” for -ani “his” (32 ab‹Íu,
43 r¤m‹Íu, 46 p‹Íu), -bi “its” for 1st sing. gen.
“my” (53 kur.bi // m⁄t‹ya), -bi for 2nd sing.
dative “for you” (43 mà.am.tuk.bi //
arÍi’akkum), -eÍ and -aÍ as markers of plural
nouns and adjectives (12 sar.re.eÍ // er›r‹, 13
níg.silim.e.eÍ // sullum⁄tum, 16 ne.ri.a.aÍ //
ulli’⁄tim, 26 zi.dè.eÍ // k‹n⁄tum), -bi as a marker
of a plural verb (30 ba.a.tuÍ.bi // uÍb›). Many of
these usages can be substantiated by entries in
lexical and grammatical texts.
b) Use of Sumerian particles as independent
lexemes, as substantiated by lexical equations: bi
“and” (2 u), Íè “in” (2 ina).
106
Babylonian Literary Texts
c) Reduplication to produce plural forms:
ne.en.ne.en (15 anni’⁄tim).
d) Addition of munus “woman” to produce
fem. predicates on the Akkadian model, presuming munus = +Vt: dub.sar.munus (23
ˇupÍarrat), kù.zu.munus (23 emqet).
e) Absence of Sumerian postpositions in
phrases where Akkadian does not use a preposition or other particle: uru lugal for uru lugal.la
(1 ⁄l Íarr‹), mu for mu ... a.(Íè) (4 aÍÍum ‰abt⁄t),
Íà ma.da.gá.a for Íà ma.da.gá.ka (45).
f) False order of nominal chain: ka.zu.a búr
for ká bùr.zu.a (4 ina b⁄b pilÍ‹ka!), Íu.a
ní.me.kam for Íu ní.gá.ka (5 ina Óum⁄t
ram⁄n‹ya), ab líl.e.ba for líl ab.ba.gin7 (9 k‹ma
ziq‹q aptim), bi.pap for pap.bi (32 ab‹Íu); included here are preposed genitives in possessive
phrases where the rectum lacks the expected
pronominal reflex: géÍtug nin for nin géÍtug.ga
or géÍtug.ga nin.bi (24 b¤let uznim), bàn.da nin
for nin bàn.da-(ak) or bàn.da nin.bi (24 b¤let
taÍ‹mtim), kur.gá sì.sì? for sì.sì kur.gá or kur.gá
sì.sì.bi (51 Óissat m⁄t‹ya), uru na.gá.àm (53 Íumi
⁄l‹ya), [ma.d]a? géÍtug.en (54 uzun m⁄t‹ya).
g) False order of members of a clause: Íu.mú
bal ak.dè (28 inazzar kar⁄b ‹puÍ›).
h) False inversion of verbal base and prefix
chain: è.da.bí.ib (2 tarbû), al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib (3
tusappiÓ), i.ra.nú (6 ribi‰), i.ib.si.ge.eÍ (8 s¤r),
ba.e.Óa.lam (9 Óulliq), giÍ tuk.ba.àm (30 iÍm¤ma),
gar.ra.a.ba (50 Íaknu), ma.a.ab.Óúl (52 Óudu),
[gub.bí].ib (58 izziz).
i) Compounding of conjugation prefix /al/
with verbal base: al.ba.ma.ab (3 tamÍuÓ),
al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib (3 tusappiÓ).
j) Omission of verbal prefix chain: di.bi (7
aqabbû), bal (28 inazzar), ak.dè (28 ‹puÍ›), tab
(31 iÓmuˇ).
5. Erroneous equivalences
Some equivalences seem to rest on simple
error: Íe.ús “to thresh” = Íuˇ›bum “kind” (11),
through a misreading of di’⁄Íum “to thresh” as
ˇi’⁄bum “to be pleasing”; Íu—bal “to exchange”
instead of inim—bal “to talk” (36 ‹tawwu); ÍúÍana “one-third” for Íanabi “two-thirds” (39
Íitt¤n).
Little consistency emerges from this analysis: the picture is more one of a virtuoso display
of all the possibilities presented by the bilingual
scribal culture of the time. The next section of
commentary will return to some of these techniques as they occur in other examples of academic Sumerian, but first it is necessary to say
something of the pedagogical context from
which academic Sumerian emerged.
Academic Sumerian
Scholarship in Old Babylonian scribal schools
was not only a matter of learning Sumerian literary compositions by heart and making fair
copies of them. It is clear from the what we call
the Edubba literature (see below) that many
pedagogical practices were in use. One of these
was the analysis of Sumerian words and sentences by translation into Akkadian; another
was translation from Akkadian into Sumerian.
This is most clearly expressed by a passage of the
bilingual Examenstext A that uses technical terminology and has consequently sometimes
been slightly misunderstood. It reads:
inim.bal inim.Íár.Íár an.ta eme uriki.ra ki.ta
e[me.gi7.ra] an.ta eme.gi7.[ra ki.ta eme
uriki.ra] i.zu.u
inim.bal.e.da Íu-ta-bu-la e-liÍ ak-ka-da-[a] ÍapliÍ Íu-me-ru Íap-liÍ ak-ka-da-a e-liÍ Íu-me-ru
[t]i-de-e
Examenstext A 14,
ed. Sjöberg 1975a: 140
Do you know translation and interpretation,
from Akkadian into Sumerian, from Sumerian into Akkadian?
In this passage eliÍ and ÍapliÍ, and so too their
Sumerian counterparts, an.ta and ki.ta, do not
denote the respective locations of lines of interlinear Sumerian and Akkadian text upon a tablet, “above” and “below” (pace Sjöberg 1975a:
156; CAD fi/3 273). It is now known that in
grammar the two terms an.ta = elû and ki.ta =
Íaplû refer to prefix and suffix respectively
(Shaffer 1981, Black 1991: 88). Their use in
Examenstext A reveals a conceptual understanding of translation in which the source lan-
The Scholars of Uruk
guage is “at the front” and the target language
“at the rear.” This understanding very obviously arose from the physical layout of the simplest
of all explanatory texts, the lexical lists in which
an unfamiliar word in the left-hand sub-column
(usually Sumerian) was interpreted by a familiar
word in the right-hand column (Akkadian).
Because the direction of reading and writing
was left to right, the source term was encountered first (i.e. at the front), the target term second (i.e. at the rear).
According to Examenstext A, translation
from Akkadian to Sumerian took priority over
translation from Sumerian into Akkadian. That
both were standard pedagogical techniques in
the Old Babylonian school is made clear by a
less well-known and more fragmentary Old
Babylonian Edubba composition published by
Miguel Civil under the title “bilingual teaching” (Civil 1998), in a passage that surely evokes
one of the first lessons in learning to write on
clay: a teacher enjoins a student to translate
Akkadian imperatives, all related to the art of
making a clay tablet, into Sumerian, and then
back again. The first of these exercises, translation from Akkadian into Sumerian, is again given priority. It lies at the heart of the present text
and of other texts in which the Sumerian is secondary; that it had priority over the opposite
exercise has implications to which I shall return.
Translation from Sumerian to Akkadian
was usually a matter of revealing meaning. Such
translation, whether in the bilingual lexical lists
or in running texts, explained the unfamiliar in
terms of the familiar. Translation of Akkadian
into Sumerian, as witnessed by the Edubba texts
cited above, was surely an exercise designed to
test mastery of vocabulary, grammar, and syntax, like Latin composition in a more modern
school. A nice example of such Sumerian is the
passage from the Date Palm and the Tamarisk
set down on an Old Babylonian tablet found at
Susa (Cavigneaux 2003: 53–57). Its editor gives
good reasons for believing that the text derives
from an Akkadian original. In fact, the text’s
origin as a Babylonian composition is immediately visible in the vocabulary and syntax of the
opening two lines:
107
giÍ
Íinig ka!.ba mu.ni.in.ak bí.in.dug4
gù bí.in.dug4 giÍgiÍimmar.ra.Íè
Cavigneaux 2003: 55 ll. 1–2
This couplet is unique in Sumerian poetry but
unmistakably a translation of a standard formula
of the Babylonian poetic repertoire, right down
to the calque of pâm ep¤Íum (ka ak) and the word
order of the third clause. The composer certainly had the following Akkadian in mind:
*b‹num pâÍu ‹puÍamma iqabbi
izzakkaram ana giÍimmarim
Tamarisk opened his mouth to speak,
saying to Date Palm.
This three-verb pattern is no. 3 in Franz
Sonnek’s typology of the formulae that introduce direct speech in Babylonian narrative
poetry (Sonnek 1940). It does not occur in any
of the Akkadian versions of Date Palm and
Tamarisk, as far as the text is now extant (Wilcke 1989), but it is common in Standard Babylonian narrative poetry. The existence of a
Sumerian calque of the three-verb pattern on an
Old Babylonian tablet means that this pattern is
now revealed as another specifically Old Babylonian feature of verse composition in Akkadian. It also makes a very clear statement that,
already in the Old Babylonian period, composers of Sumerian were liable to replicate Akkadian patterns of language, rather than Sumerian.
Another motive seems to have arisen in
translating into Sumerian, not among students
but among scholars. As the living tradition of
Sumerian literature receded from memory,
Akkadian texts began to be converted into
Sumerian not to reveal meaning or to demonstrate competence but to codify them in the old
language of prestige that had become the property of scholarship. This had the effect, no
doubt deliberate, of hiding meaning. The esoteric nature of Sumerian is explicit in another
passage of Examenstext A, which refers to
“unravelling the hidden meaning of Sumerian”
(Sjöberg 1975a: 140 l. 13: eme.gi7 . . . níg.dul.bi
. . . bur.ra // ina Íu-me-ri . . . ka-tim-ta-Íú . . . Íeˇ[a-a], restored after CAD fi/2 343). For this
reason texts in academic Sumerian, which
derive from Akkadian originals, whether writ-
108
Babylonian Literary Texts
ten or in the mind of their composer, can be
difficult to understand.
While late Sumerian is a mode of linguistic
expression clearly distinct from the Sumerian of
the third millennium, a thorough study of it is
lacking. A typical response to it is that of W. G.
Lambert, who found the Sumerian of a Middle
Assyrian bilingual inscription “obscure in the
extreme,” “totally artificial,” and “fully conform[ing] to J. Halévy’s view of Sumerian as a
learned scribal code” (Lambert 1976: 86). He
drew attention to comparable material from late
second-millennium Babylonia: the bilingual
royal inscriptions from the Kassite and Second
Isin dynasties and Kassite-period seal inscriptions studied by Henri Limet (1971). In reviewing Limet’s book Lambert wrote in more detail,
noting how far removed Kassite-period Sumerian was from the language of Gudea, demonstrating that “new grammatical forms were
being created on the model of Akkadian,” and
observing that the result depended on knowledge of contemporaneous lexical series rather
than classical Sumerian texts (Lambert 1975:
222). All this could equally well be said of the
language displayed by the composition presented here.
Eckart Frahm more recently characterized
the eleventh-century Akkadian-based Sumerian written by the court scribes of Adad-aplaiddina as exhibiting a “marked weakness” for
rare values and for cryptographic spellings of
words, especially proper nouns (Frahm 2001:
181). The same can be said, to varying degrees,
for much other post-Old Babylonian Sumerian,
not only the compositions specified by Lambert
and Frahm but also the monolingual statue
inscription of Kurigalzu (Kramer 1948) and
bilingual inscriptions of first-millennium kings.
Thorkild Jacobsen compared the bilingual
texts that celebrate Nebuchadnezzar I’s victory
over Elam to the seventh-century bilingual
inscription of fiamaÍ-Íuma-uk‹n, and found that
the Sumerian of both had much in common
(Jacobsen 1991). It is instructive to revisit his
analysis of late Sumerian in the light of the
present text. Jacobsen found several features
that in the analysis given above would be placed
in the category of “substitution” (above, section
1). Prominent was the frequent substitution of
Emegir words by Emesal dialect forms, a strategy that is little employed in the present text:
see only e.lum for alim (16). He observed an
example of a switch in Sumerian value, as above
under 1.(e), which he characterized as a
“learned pun” (1991: 287, nussuqu = múÍ.ga
because múÍ = suÓ). And he noted an example
that combines near homophony in both Sumerian and Akkadian, as above under 1.(d) and
1.(f), which he considered an example of punning (1991: 290, ‰urru “heart” = su because ‰urru
“flint, obsidian” = zú).
Jacobsen noted a confusion between “personal” and “non-personal” elements, e.g. -ene
for -bi, between third and first-person pronouns, and between pronominal elements of
different function (1991: 284–87, 290). These
would be placed in my category of “false grammar” (above, section 4). Jacobsen analyzed
them as a disregard for gender under Akkadian
influence and as examples of misinterpretation
of grammatical texts. Our text adds much to his
evidence: see above, 4.(a). He also called attention to the use of the verbal base without prefix
chain but with finite meaning, which he considered an Akkadianism (1991: 283–84, 289);
see above, 4.(j). Jacobsen identified false ordering of words as evidence for Akkadianized sentence structure (1991: 285) and, more
perversely, “syntactic displacement” (1991:
287–88, 290–91); see above, 4.(f) and 4.(g).
From his vantage point as a leading twentieth-century Sumerologist, Jacobsen could not
help comparing this late Sumerian with the language of early royal inscriptions and literature.
He found it wanting, and called it “abstruse
Sumerian.” It is better not to make the comparison. The composers of this Sumerian knew it as
a language of erudition, and they knew it principally from lexical lists and grammatical tables.
Particularly after the reform of the Old Babylonian scribal curriculum that saw most Sumerian
literary compositions consigned to oblivion,
their models were pedagogical and academic.
That Sumerian thereafter became increasingly
abstruse is a symptom of the fact that it had
become entirely an academic language. It is thus
The Scholars of Uruk
proper to speak of late Sumerian as academic
Sumerian.
The summary exposition presented above
of the techniques of translation used by the
present text’s composer demonstrates that he
took the process of codifying his text beyond
the usual conventions of academic Sumerian.
The versions of Sumerian of the mid- to late
second millennium and thereafter are orthodox
by comparison. The place of this new composition in the history of ancient Mesopotamian
intellectual culture is thus important.
Recourse to bilingual lists and homophonic
substitution are academic strategies much used
in later Babylonian scholarship, especially
hermeneutics, as becomes abundantly clear in
first-millennium commentaries and explanatory
texts. Consequently one has to raise the question of whether this composition might be a late
text that emulates Old Babylonian, in the manner of those suspected of such pretence by B. R.
Foster (2003: 79–80). My view, already
expressed above, is that the tablet’s ductus and
orthography settle the matter, for they both
exhibit distinctive practices that are diagnostic
of the Old Babylonian period and not known
later (for details see p. 82). In addition, neither
language nor writing is affected by the tell-tale
anachronisms in vocabulary found in texts that
pretend to be older than they really are. The
present composition shows accordingly that the
bilingual virtuosity that characterized Babylonian intellectual enquiry in the first millennium
was already prevalent among scholars in the Old
Babylonian period. It thus affords us new
insight into the function of Sumerian in the
intellectual life of Babylonia in the first part of
the second millennium BC.
The present text is not the only evidence
that the history of academic Sumerian begins
not in the post-Old Babylonian periods but earlier. By the eighteenth century Old Babylonian
scholars established a tradition of coining Sumerian personal names by translation from Akkadian; the results, e.g. Utu-manÍum < fiamaÍiddinam, were grammatically sound but not
authentic by the standards of earlier Sumerian
anthroponymy. A short example of composition in academic Sumerian was found at Sippar
109
Amn⁄num (Tell ed-D¤r) in the house of the
lamentation-priest Ur-Utu, who flourished
during the reign of Ammi‰aduqa (conventionally 1646–1626). It is not yet published but has
been described by the late Léon De Meyer as
“un petit document religieux inédit, le Di 761,
qui porte, au revers, un texte accadien de quatre
lignes en cursive paléo-babylonienne tardive,
et, à la face, écrite à l’aide de signes archaïsants,
une transposition (aussi en quatre lignes) en
sumérien ‘savant’” (De Meyer 1982: 275). The
contrast between the learned Sumerian in
archaizing script and the Akkadian in cursive
script is a clear indication of the writer’s purpose: to convert a readily comprehensible text
into something more recondite.
A later copy of a commemorative inscription of Ammi‰aduqa from Nippur maintains a
similar distinction, rendering the Sumerian text
in elaborate archaizing script and the Akkadian
text in a regular Middle Babylonian hand (BE I
129, ed. Frayne 1990: 425–27). More importantly for the present argument, the Sumerian of
this inscription is so far removed from the language of third-millennium texts that Arno
Poebel considered it a third variety, neither
“Hauptdialekt” (i.e. Emegir) nor Emesal
(Poebel 1923: 5). Its academic origin is quite
clear from its use of Sumero-Akkadian equivalences otherwise found in “late lexical texts and
commentaries” (Frayne 1990: 425).
Seal inscriptions on tablets from D›rAbieÍuÓ add to the evidence by demonstrating
that the difficult, academic Sumerian typical of
Kassite-period seals was already in vogue
among seal-cutters in the late Old Babylonian
period, when the cult and personnel of Nippur
were removed to D›r-AbieÍuÓ (Van Lerberghe
and Voet forthcoming; see also below, the
commentary on Text No. 17). The names of
some of the kings of the ensuing Sealand dynasty—GulkiÍar, PeÍgaldaramaÍ and Ayadaragalamma—are probably exotic Sumerian versions of ordinary Babylonian personal names,
and then vouch for a continuity of tradition in
Sumerian in the southeast of Babylonia during
the sixteenth century. Unpublished omen tablets show that the period of the Sealand kings
was a time when Babylonian scholarship, inher-
110
Babylonian Literary Texts
ited from Nippur and D›r-AbieÍuÓ, continued
to flourish under royal patronage (George 2008:
63).
The Ancients’ Perception of Sumerian
The present composition is an early example of
translation into academic Sumerian, from the
familiar to the unfamiliar, taken to extremes. It
is important evidence for academic Sumerian as
a product of the bilingual intellectual culture of
Old Babylonian scholarship. It is also important
for the insight it gives us on how Sumerian was
perceived by those who used it at that time. It is
nothing new that the Babylonians believed language and writing to be god-given, but this
composition adds to the idea. The verb used in
describing the delivery to Uruk of the art of
writing is Íal⁄lum “to carry off (by force)” (l. 47).
This is a strange word to use in reference to the
Babylonian myth of the civilization of mankind. This myth we know best from Berossus’s
Babyloniaca where Oannes (the sage Adapa),
emerging from the sea to impart to the Babylonians knowledge and technology of all kinds, is
the first of a series of such beings (Jacoby 1958:
369–70; Verbrugghe and Wickersham 1996: 48;
on Oannes see further Wilcke 1991, Foster
1994, Streck 2003c).
An allusion to the myth occurs in a native
text, a short Sumero-Akkadian composition
about the sebet apkall› “seven sages” that holds
their origin to be sea and river alike (Reiner
1961: 2 ll. 5'–9'). It is always assumed that the
sages were sent by Enki-Ea as his agents, and
that he was as complicit in the civilizing of
mankind in this myth as he is in Sumerian
mythology, as especially witnessed by the composition known as Enki and the World Order
(Komoróczy 1973: 145–46). But one cannot
rule out another interpretation of the myth, that
Oannes and other mythical sages acted on their
own initiative, like Prometheus.
There is another Mesopotamian myth that
certainly imagines the diffusion of civilization as
an involuntary process. According to the narrative poem we call Inanna and Enki, the god
Enki of Eridu gave his young niece, Inanna of
Uruk, certain cosmic powers (the mes) while
drunk, regretted it in the morning but failed to
recover them despite many attempts (FarberFlügge 1973). The myth is a charter for Inanna,
in that the powers Inanna thus won from her
uncle served as a commentary on her divine
identity (Glassner 1992). But it also explains
how Uruk came to be the greatest urban center
of prehistoric Mesopotamia, for the mes she
took to Uruk included many of the prerequisites for social organization and urban living.
Thus in this tradition civilization was transmitted inadvertently and against Enki’s will, and
came first to Uruk. The composition Inanna
and Enki was not a favorite copy-text in the
Old Babylonian period, but no doubt the myth
it articulated of the transfer of the mes from
Eridu to Uruk was particularly vital in Uruk, for
it substantiated Uruk’s position as the birthplace of writing. The story told by the present
text, in which Ea freely grants (Íar⁄kum) wisdom to Uruk and a sage takes scholarly knowledge there by force (Íal⁄lum), combines
elements of both myths.
The scholarly knowledge introduced to
Uruk by the sage is referred to specifically as (a)
ˇupÍarr›tum, the technology, learning and practice of the scribe (l. 47), and (b) Íumerum “Sumerian” (l. 48). That Nissaba, the goddess of
scribes, put the finishing touches to Ea’s gift
reaffirms the focus of the text on written, Sumerian learning, above all the other arts of civilization. The same emphasis on written learning
has been observed in Berossus’s account of
Oannes, who gave mankind knowledge of
“ancestry and citizenship” in written form (Foster 1974: 347 n. 12). The present composition’s
emphasis on Sumerian as the sole property of
scribes and scholars corroborates the widely
accepted view that Sumerian had long disappeared from the speech of the streets by the Old
Babylonian period, and survived only as the
language of erudition, the preserve of a tiny literate elite; but the implications of this have not
been fully realized.
The projection of scholarship’s exclusive
control of Sumerian back into the remote,
mythical past ignores the historical fact that it
was once a vernacular language. It is almost as if,
in the Old Babylonian period, they had forgotten that ordinary people had ever spoken Sum-
The Scholars of Uruk
erian. Perhaps they had; certainly the Babylonians’ own statements concerning Sumerian
nowhere acknowledge that it was anything other than a special language used by the initiated,
whether spoken, written and analyzed by
scribes and scholars, or sung by trained choristers and cantors. The passages quoted above
about translation in the Edubba literature show
that translation from Sumerian into Akkadian
was preceded by the opposite, and so give the
impression that Babylonian teachers believed
there could be no Sumerian text without a preexisting Akkadian text. This is no vindication of
Joseph Halévy’s rightly discredited position that
Sumerian was an artificial, coded form of the
Semitic language of ancient Mesopotamia (on
this nineteenth-century controversy see Cooper 1993); but one suspects that Babylonian
scholars would, themselves, have agreed with
him.
Genre and Purpose
The text’s preoccupation with the topic of
writing and scholarship is significant for its place
in the Babylonians’ literary system. Compositions that celebrated the art of writing often did
so by situating the topic in the context of scribal
education. Such texts are known today by the
generic term Edubba literature, after the Sumerian for scribal school, é.dub.ba.a. A comprehensive modern treatment of Edubba literature
is lacking but its general character is conveyed
in the selection of texts treated by Samuel Noah
Kramer (1963: 237–48); for bibliography up to
1987 see Dietz Otto Edzard’s sections on Schulstreitgespräche, Schulsatiren and Erzählend-belehrende Literatur in his summary of Sumerian literary compositions (Edzard and Röllig 1987: 44–
45). The subdivision of the genre into school
disputes and school satires has been criticized as
spurious (van der Toorn 1991: 64 n. 21).
The genre of Edubba literature was longlived. The oldest representatives are monolingual Sumerian compositions known from midOld Babylonian copies. They are already anachronistic, however, for they describe an institution that belongs more probably to the Ur III
and early Isin periods than to the late eighteenth
century (George 2005). Several Sumerian Edub-
111
ba compositions were still extant in the first millennium, when they were provided with Babylonian translations. The function of these often
witty texts, of whatever period, was certainly
pedagogical; they instructed learner scribes in
the intellectual traditions of Sumer and Babylonia, held up as the highest good, and inculcated
moral rectitude and seemly behavior also (Volk
2000, Vanstiphout 1997). Some Edubba compositions took the form of disputes between rival
individuals (school disputes). The present composition is no dispute but, as a monologue in
which one scribe harangues another for his
inadequacies, it is of similar tone. The revelation that the rival pair of scholars are father and
son adds piquancy to the situation and invites
comparison with the satire known as the Father
and his Disobedient Son, a monologue in
which a father laments his son’s failure to attend
the Edubba and lack of interest in following in
his footsteps (Sjöberg 1973, Alster 1975).
Unlike that feckless boy, the son of the present
text is successful, for he has become a scholar
renowned in his own right. This is a scenario
not unlike that of the dialogue known as the
Supervisor and the Scribe (transl. Vanstiphout
1997: 590–92). There the senior figure, selfcongratulatory at first, is won over by the
younger man’s protestations of obedience and
success, and concludes by blessing him for his
good works. The present text does not arrive at
the same conclusion. The father, who began by
contrasting his son’s fumbling first attempts
with his own brilliance, continues to assert his
own enduring superiority at the end.
The father-and-son dynamic operates very
commonly in the genre of instructions, both in
the ancient Near East, where it mimics the
social setting of education (van der Toorn 1991:
62), and in later cultures (see the bibliography in
Alster 1991: 105 n. 11). The moral tone of such
texts is the same as that which informs the
present composition: father knows best, so obey
him and you will be successful. The piece published here emerges as an important piece of
scribal literature, unusual for the period in being
written in Akkadian rather than Sumerian, but
comparable in genre and mode with several of
the Edubba compositions that were handed
112
Babylonian Literary Texts
down in scribal education in the Old Babylonian period and later.
Having looked at its content, form, and
genre, I raise the question as to what this composition was for. It is possible to suppose that it
was to be taken seriously, as a virtuoso demonstration of recherché learning, in which a master
teacher shows off to his pupils the fullness of his
scholarship and, in particular, his mastery of the
bilingual lexical and grammatical texts. Much of
the Edubba literature in Sumerian certainly had
a serious intent, for all its well-acknowledged
wit, in that it conveyed the notion of scribal
learning as the highest intellectual art. Not for
nothing does Examenstext D eulogize the
learning of the different varieties of Sumerian as
nì.zu diri.ga // iÓ-zu Íu-tu-ru “the highest form
of knowledge” (Sjöberg 1972: 126–27 l. 14). A
text in which a father asserts the superiority of
his scholarship over his son’s is a fitting vehicle
for ultra-learned Sumerian, for by its very erudition the Sumerian itself vindicates his claim
beyond any refutation.
Thorkild Jacobsen concluded his study of
“abstruse Sumerian” with a similar thought:
“The various peculiarities here discussed seem
to lead naturally to the conclusion that scribes of
the first millennium B.C.E and perhaps earlier
were conversant with a highly artificial and
abstruse style in which to compose cryptic
pseudo-Sumerian texts. Why they would have
done so is less clear; one can only guess that such
a style was considered a proof of supreme learning and that what appears to us as blunders and
ignorance, to them was seen rather as profound
erudition posing challenging riddles to less
acute minds” (1991: 291). In a footnote to this
sentence Jacobsen made the connection between the techniques employed in composing
academic Sumerian and those employed by
first-millennium hermeneutical texts, in which
Sumerian is the vehicle for the exploration of
hidden meaning. The comparison is well made
and, though it needs further study, speaks again
for a seriousness of intent in the composition of
academic Sumerian as a mode of expressing and
concealing meaning.
Yet one may also argue that the learning
here is taken to such extremes, and the Sumerian so exceptional in comparison to anything
else produced in the second and first millennia,
that the composition may be taken as a satirical
piece, which makes fun of the father as a scholar
who professes himself learned but does not, in
fact, understand how to compose correct Sumerian. Even so, it might still have served a serious pedagogical purpose, in showing students of
the Babylonian intellectual culture how far it
was possible to go wrong if not deeply immersed in Sumerian literature and scholarship.
The debate is open.
A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ
No. 15
3302
This is a long, narrow tablet inscribed in a single column with sixty-three lines of Old Babylonian cuneiform. The text is a letter sent by
Sîn-muballiˇ to an enemy of Yamutbalum. The
Sîn-muballiˇ in question is certainly the brother
of R‹m-Sîn, king of Larsa and Yamutbal
(1822–1763). The name of the addressee is lost,
but, as becomes clear from the rest of the letter,
he is the ruler of a minor polity and evidently
an erring vassal of Larsa whose actions have
annoyed R‹m-Sîn.
The letter is written carefully in a minute
scholarly hand. The same hand appears to have
written at least one other letter in the Schøyen
Collection, MS 3523, whose sender’s name is
damaged but differs from that of MS 3302.
Other letters in the collection with similarly
small and elegant, but not identical, scripts are
from the correspondence of R‹m-Sîn himself
and from persons in his service. The script-type
is that characterized by F. R. Kraus in volumes
of Altbabylonische Briefe as “R‹m-Sîn-Schrift,” a
term that he explains in the foreword to AbB V
as “ein gewisser Handschrifttyp . . . , welcher
auf anscheinend oft spitzeckigen Tafeln mit
Daten des Königs R‹m-Sîn von Larza z.B. in
Nippur und Larsa vorkommt” (Kraus 1972: xi).
As a typical example Kraus cited A 564, a letter
now in Chicago, supposedly from Bismaya
(ancient Adab) and published in photograph by
Leroy Waterman (1930–36 IV pl. II no. 5). M.
Stol, who edited A 564 as AbB XI 135, noted
the supposed provenance but commented further that the “writing is typical of Larsa” (1986:
88 n. 135a).
Many of the Schøyen Collection’s tablets
in “R‹m-Sîn script” fall under the number MS
2776, a group of thirty-two letters that also
contains less beautifully written tablets, including correspondence from an earlier king of Lar-
Pls. 44–47
sa, Sumuel. While a provenance in Adab (or
Nippur) cannot be ruled out absolutely, it
seems more likely that all these tablets formed
part of the royal archives of Larsa, and that
many were fair copies of state correspondence
retained for reference. Further study of the
collection’s large holding of Old Babylonian
letters will undoubtedly sharpen our understanding.
The present text displays highly literary
vocabulary and style very unlike the other,
more mundane correspondence, and it is singled out for inclusion in the present volume for
that reason. Some of the issues it raises concerning the nature of poetry and prose in Babylonian literary creativity are discussed in the
commentary, followed by a brief account of
the letter’s historical context.
Content
The conventional opening formula is all but
lost (ll. 1–3), so that only the sender’s name is
recoverable. No conventional niceties follow
the formula but instead an assertion that the
addressee’s power devolves from R‹m-Sîn (4–
5). Then comes a broken sentence, the full
sense of which eludes me (5–7). Thereafter
Sîn-muballiˇ asserts that R‹m-Sîn did not attack
the town of Malgium, citing three classic offensive strategies from which he abstained: damming of the water supply, wrecking of harvest
by flooding, and destruction of date-palm plantations (8–13). During this time Malgium
enjoyed an ideal peace: the open country was
safe for both city-dwellers and pastoralists, even
at night, under the security of a pax Larsana, as
it were (14–19). Then the situation changed.
The statement that Malgium sinned against the
gods of Nippur (20–23) offers the usual ideological pretext for a defeat in war. Malgium’s
113
114
Babylonian Literary Texts
subsequent loss of independence is symbolized
by the destruction of its royal emblems (24–26).
Sîn-muballiˇ does not imply that Larsa was
responsible for Malgium’s demise.
At this point the addressee seems to have
taken advantage of Larsa’s distraction by acting
in a way so intolerable to the senior state that his
behavior is said to offend the cosmic order,
sending the very skies into reverse (27–30). The
gods of Yamutbal will never allow the memory
of this treachery to be erased (31–35). As a consequence, the addressee already finds himself
politically isolated, ostracized, and in fear for his
life, a passage characterized by vivid literary
imagery (36–45). Sîn-muballiˇ then repeats the
accusation with even greater hyperbole: in
meddling with Larsa the addressee has tried to
put a brake on the motion of the stars (46–48).
The result is that he has humiliated himself
before his fellow rulers (49–50), presumably by
begging to enter into an alliance on any terms.
But while repeating the accusation that the
addressee has committed a hostile act against
R‹m-Sîn’s state, Sîn-muballiˇ is inclined to give
him another chance (51–55). He ends by telling
him to remain in place as ruler of his city until
R‹m-Sîn himself makes his wishes known (56–
63).
Aspects of Language and Writing
The literary style of this letter is discussed in the
commentary below. The vocabulary and language are otherwise unremarkable, but note an
abbreviated 2.m.sg. stative, waÍb⁄t (40, 45)
instead of waÍb⁄ta. Turning to matters of writing
and spelling, one observes that sign forms vary
from elaborate to plain. The sign lu often looks
like ku (ll. 7, 26, 42). A distinctive feature is that
when the sign a follows a sign ending in an
upright wedge, the two signs are often (but not
always) written so close together that they
resemble a single sign: la a (29), ba a (40, 45), ka
a (55). This is a feature observed also in some
Middle Assyrian hands from AÍÍur. Mimation is
absent on several occasions: mà-al-gi4-a (9), iamu-ut-ba-la, a-Óa (29), Ía-ki-ik-ku (39, 41), gi-talu-tu (41), qù-la-tu Ía-ak-na-ku (43), i-Ía-ap-para-ak-ku (61), a-la (62). Geminated consonants
are occasionally written defectively: ki-t[um?]
(5), gi4-Íi-ma-ar-Íu (13), te-bé-li (33), gi-ta-lu-tu
(41), ta-ka-lu (42), ‰i-bi-ti (44), tu-‰a-ab (59).
There is one “broken” writing: tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ
(57). Short vowels are sometimes marked plene:
i-Íu-ú (23), nu-ú-uÍ-Íu (25), te-pu-ú-Íu (31). The
vetitive particle ay is written a (35). As one
might expect with a letter probably originating
in a scriptorium controlled by Larsa, the spelling
of sibilants follows southern conventions. The
syllable /sV/ is written with signs from the ZVrange: ku-us-sí (24, 40), tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ (57),
except in the case of a word from the root 3slm:
sa-lim (19) and in the toponym ì-si-in (53). The
latter is normal in Old Babylonian, but derives
from the third millennium and preserves an old
spelling properly read ì-Íí-in. The syllable /ka/
is also once written archaically, with the sign
GA: [qá-a]t-kà (27).
TRANSLITERATION
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
[a-na PN]
[qí-bí-ma]
[um-m]a ‚dsîn(suen)Ÿ-mu-‚baŸ-[lí-iˇ-ma]
‚ÍaŸ mdri-‚imŸ-dsîn(s[ue]n) [Íarrim(lugal)?]
id-ka-ma ki-t[um?]
i-di x Íi im [x]
lu-ú x [x]
md
ri-im-dsîn(suen) ‚béŸ-l[i-i]
⁄lam(uru)ki mà-al-gi4-a
na-ar-Íu ú-ul is-ki-ir
ú-ga-ri-i-Íu
A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
rev.
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
me-e ú-ul ú-Ía-bi-il
gi4-Íi-ma-ar-Íu ú-ul ik-ki-is
wa-‰i a-bu-ul-li-i-Íu
e-em ú-Ía-am-Íu-ú
i-bi-a-at
ù ni-Íu na-we-e-Íu
a-bu-ur-ri ra-ab-‰a
sa-lim bé-li-ia sa-[l]im-Íu
a-lum malgium(murgu)ki
it-ti den-líl ma-li-ki-im ra-bi-im
ù dnin-urta a-Ía-re-ed é.kur
ar-na-am i-Íu-ú
ku-us-sí Íar-ru-ti-i-Íu
nu-ú-uÍ-Íu
[ù] pa-lu-Íu! na-as-‚ÓuŸ
[qá-a]t-kà tu-ma-a‰-‰í-[m]a
[Ía]-me-e ta-as-ki-ip
‚ùŸ ia-mu-ut-ba-la a-Óa ra-bi-a-am
te-eg-ri
a-wa-at te-pu-ú-Íu
a-na wa-ar-ki-at u4-mi-im
ú-ul te-bé-‚liŸ
d
sîn(suen) ù dÍamaÍ(utu) bé-el ia-mu-ut-ba-lim
i-na a-wa-tim a ip-ˇù-ru-ni-ik-kum
iÍ-tu u4-mi-im Ía a-na ia-mu-ut-ba-lim
tu-ga-al-li-lu
i-na ma-a-a-li-i-ka la ‰a-la-lum
Ía-ki-ik-ku
i-na ku-us-sí wa-aÍ-ba-a-at
gi-ta-lu-tu Ía-ki-ik-ku
i-na pa-aÍ-Íu-ú[r t]a-ka-lu
qù-la-tu Ía-‚akŸ-na-ku
i-na ‰i-bi-ti ra-ma-ni-i-ka-ma
wa-aÍ-ba-a-at
qá-at-ka tu-ma-a‰-‰í-i-ma
a-na e-ri-iq Ía-me-e
bu-ba-a-tim ta-la-a-aˇ
e-ri-in-na-am ta-aÓ-ta-pa-ar-ma
Ía-ar-ri ta-‚asŸ-Óu-ur
ia-mu-ut-ba-lam a-‚ÓaŸ-am ra-bi-a-am
te-eg-ri
Íum-ma elamtam(NIM.MA)‚kiŸ urukki ì-si-inki
ù-Íi-zi-ib
ù ka-a-ti lu-Íi-zi-ib-ka
ma-ak-ku-ur ekallim(é.gal)lim
la tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ
ar-na-am a-na ar-ni-im
la tu-‰a-ab
115
116
Babylonian Literary Texts
a-di mdri-im-dsîn(suen) mu-uÍ-ta-lum
i-Ía-ap-pa-ra-ak-ku
a-la a-na bé-li-i-Íu
ú-‰ú-ur
60
61
62
63
TRANSLATION
[To PN, say, thus] Sîn-muballiˇ:
4–5
Your power belongs to [king] R‹m-Sîn! In truth, 6 the power of . . . 7 let . . .
8
[My] lord R‹m-Sîn 9–10 did not block the waterway leading to the town of Malgium,
11–12
he did not arrange for water to carry off its crops, 13 he did not cut down its datepalms. 14 (Any)one who departed from its gate 15–16 would pass the night wherever he
found himself at nightfall, 17 and the people of its grazing country 18 were (like cows)
lying in pasture. 19 The peace of my lord was its peace.
20
The town of Malgium 23 sinned 21 against Enlil, the great counsellor, 22 and
Ninurta, the champion of E-kur. 24 Its thrones of kingship 25 are dislodged, 26 [and] its
regalia torn out. 27 You interfered(?) and 28 thrust back the skies, 29–30 and you picked
a fight with the big brother Yamutbalum. 31 The thing that you did 32–3 will not be
extinguished for the rest of time. 34 Sîn and Shamash, the lords of Yamutbalum, 35 shall
not release you from (your responsibility in) the matter. 36–37 From the day that you
sinned against Yamutbalum, 38 in your bed lying sleepless 39 has been your lot, 40 on
the chair you occupy 41 flinching in terror has been your lot, 42 at the table you eat
from 43 deathly quiet has been your lot. 45 You dwell 44 in a prison of your own making!
46
You interfered(?), 47–48 (as if) trying to clamp the axles of the Wagon-of-the49
Sky. You have placed a “yoke” over your head and 50 made the rounds of kings.
52
You picked a fight with 51 the big brother Yamutbalum. 53–54 If it can spare Elam,
Uruk and Isin, 55 then should I spare you too? 57 Do not squander 56 the palace’s property, 59 do not add 58 sin to sin! 60 Until the judicious R‹m-Sîn 61 sends you word, 63
look after 62 the town for its lord!
1
2
3
NOTES
27. The phrase recurs in l. 46. CAD M/1 348
quotes two instances of q⁄tam mu‰‰ûm, literally “to make the hand reach out,”
which it renders as to “be generous, show
largesse.” A positive meaning is not suitable for the present passage. Compare the
passive II/2 muta‰‰ûm, which in Old Assyrian has the sense “to be made to intervene.” One who “makes his hand intervene” is someone who interferes in matters
not his own.
28. Less likely [na-w]e-e. The expression Íamê
sak⁄pum “to thrust back the skies” is paraphrased in ll. 47–48 with a more explicit
image.
35. The dative suffix is awkward: ipˇur›nikka is
expected.
47–48. The bub⁄tum of the Wagon-constellation (Ursa Major) are also known from a
Standard Babylonian fortune-tellers’ manual, where in two incantation-prayers to
this constellation they are symbolically
matched with the “Daughters of Anu of
the pure heavens” (STT 73: 62 and 72 //
UET VII 118: 9 and 18): b[u]-ba-tu-ki
m⁄rat(dumu.munus) da-nim Íá Íamê(an)e
ell›ti(kù)meÍ (ed. Reiner 1960: 33, transl.
Reiner 1995: 71). In his study of road vehicles, Armas Salonen identified this part of a
vehicle as its axle (Salonen 1951: 100). The
A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ
attestations he collected show that bub›tu is
a long piece of wood. Failure of a chariot’s
left or right b. was a cause of dangerous
accidents, according to omen compendia,
and could cause it to overturn. Miguel
Civil objected to Salonen’s identification
because “there are two gáb-íl [= bub›tu] in
a vehicle, one on each side,” and proposed
instead that the term designated part of the
frame, i.e. its “lateral beams” (Civil 1968:
10). His objection can be countered by
proposing that when omen texts refer to
the b. “of the left/right” breaking, they
mean the left or right end of a single pole.
Failure will occur at the points under
greatest stress, which will be between the
wheels and the bearings that hold the axle
in the chariot’s frame, i.e. toward the axle’s
two ends. The Wagon-constellation has
more than one bub›tum because it was
117
envisaged as a cart with four wheels. In the
lexical text Urra V 53–54 it may be significant that giÍkab.íl gigir = bub›tu is paired
with giÍumbin gigir = magarru “wheel,” the
part most obviously associated with an
axle. The present text adds to the discussion the fact that the bub⁄tum of a chariot
can be the objects of lâˇum “to shackle
(with a wooden clamp),” proving that the
bub›tum was a moving part. The reference
is probably to a technique of braking and
lends further support to the translation
“axle.”
60. The presence of a case-ending on muÍt⁄lum
makes it unlikely that this line contains a
compound personal name. Other names
compounded with this adjective utilize a
predicative construction, i.e. *R‹m-SînmuÍt⁄l.
COMMENTARY
Transcription of ll. 8–63 in a manner that
Literary style
distinguishes
between a plainer style of discourse
The high literary ambitions of the letter’s composer can be clearly observed in its style. The (roman) and versified passages (italic) allows a
composition makes much use of balanced struc- clearer view of the prosody. The versified pastures typical of Babylonian poetry and can be sages are here presented as if poetry, divided into
categorized as a highly elevated prose.
couplets, lines and smaller poetic units.
R‹m-Sîn b¤l‹ | ⁄lam Malgiam || n⁄rÍu | ul ískir,
ugar‹Íu | mê ul uÍ⁄bil || giÍimmarÍu | ul íkkis.
w⁄‰i | abull‹Íu || ¤m uÍamÍû | ib‹’at,
u niÍ› | nawêÍu || aburr‹ | ráb‰⁄.
sal‹m b¤l‹ya sal‹mÍu.
⁄lum Malgium itti Ellil m⁄likim rabîm u Ninurta aÍar¤d Ekur arnam ‹Íu.
kussi Íarr›t‹Íu | núÍÍ› || u palûÍu | násÓ›.
q⁄tka | tuma‰‰‹ma || Íamê | táskip,
u Yam›tb⁄lam | aÓam rabi’am | tégri.
aw⁄t t¤puÍu | ana warki’⁄t ›mim | ul tebélli,
Sîn u fiamaÍ | b¤l Yam›tb⁄lim || ina aw⁄tim | ay ipˇur›níkkum.
iÍtu ›mim | Ía ana Yam›tb⁄lam | tugállilu,
ina mayy⁄l‹ka | l⁄ ‰al⁄lum | Íakíkkum;
118
Babylonian Literary Texts
ina kussi | waÍb⁄t || gitallutum | Íakíkkum,
ina paÍÍ›r | takkalu || q›l⁄tum | Íakn⁄kum.
ina ‰ibitti | ram⁄n‹ka | waÍb⁄t.
q⁄tka tuma‰‰‹ma ana ereq Íamê bub⁄tim talâˇ.
erinnam | taÓtapárma || Íarr‹ | tásÓur,
Yam›tb⁄lam | aÓam rabi’am | tégri.
Íumma Elamtam Uruk u Isin uͤzib u kâti l›Í¤zibka.
makk›r | ¤kallim | l⁄ tasáppaÓ,
arnam | ana arnim | l⁄ tú‰‰ab.
adi R‹m-Sîn | muÍt⁄lum | iÍapparákkum,
⁄lam | ana b¤l‹Íu | ú‰ur.
While the word-order throughout is that of
prose, with all verbs in final position, in some
passages there are clear patterns of parallelism
and other versification. Such passages fall into
poetic units by the coincidence of rhythm,
sense, and structure. For example, the first passage of verse (R‹m-Sîn . . . rab‰⁄) consists of four
lines of four rhythmic units (“beats”), each
divided in two by a caesura and ending with a
stressed penultimate syllable. The four lines
form two couplets, each with its own topic.
Syntactical pauses occur at the end of each line
of poetry; the couplet-final pause is longer than
the line-final pause and corresponds to a period.
This is standard Old Babylonian verse-making.
Versification explains features of the letter that
appear unusual, for example the literary epithet
muÍt⁄lum given to R‹m-Sîn at the end of the letter. Without it, the sentence will not form a regular couplet.
The topic of prose v. poetry is not one that
has greatly occupied Assyriologists. In his study
of the genre of fictional autobiography Tremper
Longman III asserted that such compositions
were couched in prose because prose conveyed
authenticity, while poetry was eschewed because it suggested invention (1991: 210). The
issue needs a finer nuance, not least because
some of the fictional autobiographies are highly
versified, if not actually poetry, but also because
some poetry was, to the Babylonians, divine in
origin, authenticated by the highest cosmic
authority and received as revealed truth.
The formal, rather than functional, distinction between prose and poetry has been given
scant attention in Assyriology, though it is
implicit in any formal description of Babylonian
poetic style: prose is what is not poetry. In her
exposition of Babylonian poetry Joan Goodnick
Westenholz quoted Aristotle’s thoughts on how
poetry differs from prose and identified poetic
language accordingly (1997: 24–29). The Aristotelian definition of poetry as unfamiliar language that deviates from common modes of
speech has been a fundamental starting point in
any such endeavor, and is everywhere apparent
in the collection of essays edited as Mesopotamian
Poetic Language (Vogelzang and Vanstiphout
1996). One essay, by Piotr Michalowski, brings
a more theoretically informed approach (1996).
Rejecting the tendency of Assyriologists to seek
a formal metrical system in Akkadian poetry as
“perversely eurocentric,” founded as it is on a
“gymnasium acquaintance with Greek and Latin poetry,” Michalowski advocates a break with
Aristotle.
The classical view that discourse is either
poetry or prose is not helpful to us, for it disallows the possibility of a composition in which
prose and poetry merge. That possibility was
realized very effectively in several more ancient
literatures, as demonstrated by a volume on
Verse in Ancient Near Eastern Prose, edited by
A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ
Johannes de Moor and Wilfred Watson (1993).
Unfortunately, this book elicited only two contributions on Akkadian, both concerned with
Akkadian in the West. Manfried Dietrich analyzed the Amarna text of the poem of Adapa as
a combination of verse and prose. Richard Hess
found rhetorical writing in letters of the same
period that used poetic devices to elevate the
prose, though nothing like the lyrical language
of the letter published here. De Moor and Watson’s introduction indicates many instances of
compositions in which prose and verse “coexist,” and in different measure, but does not
question the adequacy of the terms “verse” and
“prose” in the ancient Near Eastern literatures.
Instead their title, Verse in Prose, coins a functional compromise that will serve a pragmatic
purpose effectively.
In considering the difference between poetry and prose in ancient Mesopotamia, Michalowski rightly asserts that “most specialists
would agree that the limited examples of narrative prose are highly structured and exhibit
many of the same qualities as do the more obviously poetic texts” (1996: 146). For him, “it
makes little sense to separate poetry from prose.
Rather one should proceed with micro-analyses of individual texts regardless of prose or
poetic profile.” I share his concern for individual texts and his scorn for barren categorizing,
but I also think it important to stress the fact that
ancient Near Eastern writing often does not
easily surrender to the exclusive division between poetry and prose that we try to impose
on it. This can best be done by seeking out
examples of “verse in prose” and exposing them
as literature.
Anyone who has read such texts as Sennacherib’s eighth campaign and Nabonidus’s
oeuvre as pieces of literary creativity, rather
than as historical propaganda, will know that
the art of writing “verse in prose” was highly
developed in first-millennium Mesopotamia. T.
J. Meek long ago commented on the “semipoetic style” of the prologue and epilogue of
°ammurapi’s laws (1969: 164; see further Korpel 1993: 146–50). Indeed, the more extended
royal inscriptions tend toward a highly literary
style throughout the history of Akkadian, espe-
119
cially in Babylonia. The present composition
gives us another Old Babylonian example of
“verse in prose,” again from a royal court, and
adds to the material extant for those who wish
to tackle a neglected topic in the study of
ancient Mesopotamian literature.
The Historical Context
As an historical document the letter will
certainly shed new and welcome light on an
intriguing period of history (for which see
already Van De Mieroop 1993, Charpin 2004).
It is further evidence of the important role Sînmuballiˇ played in the administration of his
brother’s kingdom (see Charpin 2004: 253). A
full historical commentary is left to historians of
the period, but a few preliminary observations
can be made. The letter mentions that Larsa has
“spared” Elam, Uruk, and Isin (l. 53). The idea
that Elam was a victim of Larsa does not fit what
is known of R‹m-Sîn’s reign. Larsa seems to
have been only a nominal ally of Babylon in the
defeat of Elam in 1764. Presumably some earlier
victory is meant, perhaps the defeat of a grand
alliance of Uruk, Kazallu, and Isin supported by
an Elamite army and reported in the fifth yearname of Sîn-iq‹Íam (1837). The city of Uruk
fell to Larsa in R‹m-Sîn’s twentieth year (1803).
Both the subsequent year-name and a Sumerian
literary letter mention that its population was
spared (Hallo 1991). R‹m-Sîn’s thirtieth yearname records that Isin’s people were likewise
pardoned in the final capture of that city nine
years later.
The letter indicates that Malgium had formerly enjoyed peace under the benevolent protection of Larsa but then lost its independence.
The occasion was surely when it fell to °ammurapi of Babylon in his ninth year (1784). The
incident that gave rise to Sîn-muballiˇ’s letter
evidently took place in the two decades between this event and R‹m-Sîn’s own defeat by
°ammurapi in 1763. As the power of Larsa
waned, the kinglets under Larsa’s sway began to
act independently, one of them unacceptably
so. Sîn-muballiˇ’s authority lay in his responsibility for the defense of MaÍkan-Í⁄pir, the chief
town of Yamutbal, where he resided during this
period as the king’s viceroy. This situation is
120
Babylonian Literary Texts
similar to that documented in the great barrel of
Sîn-iddinam, MS 5000, which shows that a dual
kingship already operated in the mid-nineteenth century, with Sîn-iddinam defending
the north, i.e. Yamutbal, while his father N›rAdad reigned in Larsa (edition forthcoming
from Konrad Volk). It says much for the weakness of R‹m-Sîn’s state at the time of the present
letter that his brother can only rebuke the
wrongdoer and does not send forces to depose
him. In this way the letter is reminiscent of
those Sumerian literary letters in which IbbiSuen, the last king of the third dynasty of Ur,
witnesses the erosion of his power and dominions as an underling carves out an independent
power-base unhindered (Michalowski 1980:
54–55).
A Son’s Request
No. 16
3208
This is a small squarish tablet with rounded corners inscribed with a short piece of Akkadian
prose. The text reads like a letter but there is no
formula of address, so sender and addressee are
unknown. The shape of the tablet closely meets
the physical criteria established by J. J. Finkelstein for the category of late Old Babylonian
tablet known as ze’pum (1972: 2–6; also Walker
1976: iv; Sallaberger 1999: 26). Finkelstein noted that such tablets date no earlier than the
reign of Ammiditana, and identified a distinct
group of them that bear messages as “epistolary.” In Finkelstein’s volume of north Babylonian tablets the epistolary ze’pum rarely cites
sender and addressee, sometimes begins instead
with a greetings formula, but more often
launches straight into the message. D. O.
Edzard collected examples of unaddressed Old
Babylonian letters among the edited corpus,
and organized them according to how they
begin (1995: 142); a good many start off with a
greetings formula and, as Edzard implied, are
presumably ze’pum tablets. The present text is a
further example of an epistolary ze’pum that
begins with a greetings formula. But there are
grounds for doubting that the tablet is a genuine archival document.
The present tablet arrived in the collection
alongside late Old Babylonian texts from D›rAbieÍuÓ, and in script resembles them. The
gods invoked in the opening blessings are those
of Nippur, which makes it likely that the composition originated among the scholarly fami-
Pl. 48
lies of D›r-AbieÍuÓ who were descended from
refugees from Nippur (see further the commentary on Text No. 17). Its provenance may
well have been D›r-AbieÍuÓ itself, from which
derive several seventeenth-century archives.
Probably it was, like Text No. 17, a text that
functioned as a literary model. And, as with
Text No. 17, it is difficult to be sure if the letter
is a fiction or taken from real life. The message’s exemplary politeness perhaps points
toward a fictional origin, for it both contrasts
with the businesslike tone of the typical epistolary ze’pum and is fully compatible with an origin and function in scribal training, where
deference to one’s elders was extolled as a great
virtue.
The composition consists of three short
sentences in which a son calls on the gods to
look after his father (ll. 1–4), asks him for a gift
of wool, evidently to provide a new garment
(5–9), and promises that those who see him in
his new clothes will bless his father too (10–15).
The ductus is Old Babylonian; both the
complete absence of word-final mimation and
the ligature of i-na indicate a date late in the
period. The absence of ruled lines may be diagnostic of the same. While the handwriting is
accomplished, it is very large and there are
small mistakes in the execution of the text: a
sup. ras. (l. 4), di for ki (5), incomplete na (7,
14). These features suggest that the tablet was
written by a relative novice, a further indication of the text’s use in scribal training.
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
d
en-líl dnin-líl dnin-u[rta]
ù dnuska ba-ni-ka
i-na Íu-ul-mi ù ba-la-ˇi
121
Babylonian Literary Texts
122
a-bi ka-ta li-it-ta-ar-ru-ú
ki!-ma a-wi-le-e
aÓ-Ói-ka
a-bi at-ta 1 ma-na! Íip⁄ta(síg)
na-ar-ri-ra-am-ma
4
5
6
7
8
rev.
lu-ú ú-sa-at-ka
ù a-me-ru-ia
ma-Óar den-líl dnin-líl
d
nin-urta ù dnuska
ba-ni-ka
a-na! a-bi-ia ka-ta
li-ik-ru-bu
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
TRANSLATION
May Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta and Nuska who created you 4 guide you, my father,
3
in well-being and good health! 5 Like their excellencies 6 your brothers, 7 O my
father, 8 come to my aid 7 with one mina of wool, and 9 let that be your gift of support
for me! 10 Then may those who see me 15 bless 14 you, my father, 11 before Enlil, Ninlil,
12
Ninurta and Nuska 13 who created you!
1
2
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
No. 17
3209/1–3
Three very similar tablets, rebuilt from many
fragments, are all copies of a text of nearly a
hundred lines, arranged in four columns, that
reads as a juridical document. The tablets are
late Old Babylonian at the earliest, for the text
is dated in the reign of Samsuditana, the last
king of the first dynasty of Babylon. As copies
they could equally derive from the immediately post-Old Babylonian era. The geographical
context of the document is the central Babylonian city of Nippur, where the court case is
heard, and D›r-AbieÍuÓ (Fort AbieÍuÓ), apparently the plaintiff’s place of residence. D›rAbieÍuÓ was a military fort on the Tigris near
Nippur, built by Samsuditana’s great-grandfather, king AbieÍuÓ. It was located at the river’s
confluence with the waterway °ammurapinuÓuÍ-niÍ‹, above the dam that AbieÍuÓ constructed on the Tigris in his war against the
Sealand, and no doubt provided military security for this strategically important area. While
Nippur has conspicuously failed to produce
many tablets of late Old Babylonian date, D›rAbieÍuÓ is also the geographical context of at
least two unpublished archives of late Old
Babylonian tablets, some now housed at Cornell University and others in the Schøyen Collection (under the number MS 3218; see the
commentary below, on the document’s historical and geographical context). Accordingly it is
probable that the site of this town was the tablets’ original provenance.
Pls. 49–60
assembly of Nippur’s eventual ruling in his
favor. This ruling occasioned the text to be
drawn up as the official record of the court’s
proceedings and decision.
To summarize the content: Gimil-Marduk
brings his case before the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um,
stating his name and ancestry and alleging that
a relative, Apil-il‹Íu, has been acting unlawfully
against him (1–5). He asks that Aw‹l-Nabi’um
summon the high officials of Nippur so that
they can resolve the issue (6–12). These officials
constitute the assembly of Nippur, or preside
over it, for when Aw‹l-Nabi’um summons
them, Gimil-Marduk restates his claim “in the
assembly” (13–20). His allegation comprises a
detailed history of his treatment at the hands of
his relative Lu-Inanna: in the year Ammiditana
16 (1668 BC in the conventional chronology)
he had gone to Nippur to present a sacrificial
lamb to his god, but Lu-Inanna had intercepted
him, beaten him, and thrown him out of the
temple, an event that became public knowledge in Nippur (21–30). In this passage GimilMarduk specifically describes Lu-Inanna as
enjoying the rights of a prebend formerly belonging to Gimil-Marduk’s grandfather, implying that this was also a wrong against him.
Gimil-Marduk then relates how twentythree years later, in Ammi‰aduqa 2 (1645 BC),
he complained about his treatment to a distinguished visitor to Nippur, the courtier
Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, but was again beaten and again
reported the crime, once more to no avail (31–
39). After a further sixteen years or more, in
Ammi‰aduqa 17b (1629 BC or soon thereafter),
he broached the matter again when Sîn-iq‹Íam,
another high-ranking royal official, visited Fort
AbieÍuÓ. Sîn-iq‹Íam ordered an enquiry by the
assembly of Nippur, and the assembly brought
Lu-Inanna before the official and confirmed
Content
The text inscribed on these three tablets is
ostensibly a court document that records the
final settlement of one Gimil-Marduk’s search
for justice. It includes the history of his unsuccessful claims over nearly five decades, culminating in his petition to a high official and the
123
124
Babylonian Literary Texts
Gimil-Marduk’s allegations that his relative had
acted violently and had prevented Gimil-Marduk from inheriting his grandfather’s office (40–
54). The royal official consequently set in
motion the legal procedure to confirm GimilMarduk’s inheritance, which involved drawing
up a sealed document and receiving the king’s
written assent, but then left (55–59). Unfortunately some further requirement involving a
tablet of contract was not met—probably it was
not endorsed by sealing—and the matter did
not reach a satisfactory conclusion (60). The
line that adds this crucial detail was omitted
from two of our three manuscripts; without it
Gimil-Marduk’s failure to obtain justice on the
occasion of Sîn-iq‹Íam’s visit to Fort AbieÍuÓ is
left without explanation.
Having reached the end of his account,
Gimil-Marduk concludes by asking the vizier
Aw‹l-Nabi’um to heed the opinion of Nippur
and resolve the case (61–63). The vizier summons the assembly, which confirms GimilMarduk’s identity, his precedence over LuInanna, and his entitlement to his grandfather’s
office (64–70). Witnesses corroborate GimilMarduk’s identity and status as his grandfather’s
heir (71–73). Gimil-Marduk then lifts before
the assembly the divine symbol of the god
Ninurta, implying that he swears by it, and the
witnesses repeat their testimony in its presence
(73–80). Their statement is then endorsed as the
case’s resolution by the divine and earthly
authorities, Ninurta and the assembly of Nippur
(81). There follow the names of the officers of
the assembly and the scribe who drew up the
text (82–94). The date is appended, month, day
and year (95–96), from which we learn that
Gimil-Marduk finally recovered his inheritance, thanks to the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um’s
intervention, in Samsuditana 5 (1621 BC), no
less than forty-seven years after the story began.
The Status of the Text
The three copies of the document, hereafter
referred to as MSS A (MS 3209/1), B (MS
3209/2), and C (MS 3209/3), do not quite preserve a uniform text. There are a good number
of variants and some outright errors. Spelling
variation and minor variants in, e.g. the use of
the enclitic particle, can be observed in the synoptic transliterations. Variants in substance
attract comment here. At the outset, GimilMarduk’s patronymy is given as m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r
Öˇirum apil(ibila) Lu-Dumununna “son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, heir of Lu-Dumununna”
(1). Further on this unusual formula is expanded, in emphasis of Gimil-Marduk’s precedence
over Lu-Inanna, to m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum
aÓum rabûm (C om.) apil (C aplum Ía) Lu-Dumununna “son of U., son of ¡., senior ‘brother’,
heir of L.” (72). Elsewhere he is m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r
Öˇirum m⁄r-m⁄r(dumu.dumu) (BC add Ía) LuDumununna “son of U., son of ¡., grandson of
L.” (18), where dumu.dumu is probably an
error for ibila (DUMU.ÚS).
Other inconsistencies in genealogy are
present. ¡ˇirum is once called ab‹ya “my father”
(26 C) instead of abi ab‹ya “my grandfather,”
and twice aÓi ab‹ya “brother of my father” (25
AC, 48 C). Gimil-Marduk usually identifies his
oppressor Lu-Inanna as aÓi Öˇirum “brother of
¡.” (25 AC, 48 C), but otherwise simply as aÓi
abi ab‹ya “my grandfather’s brother” (48 A) or,
more particularly, as aÓum ‰eÓrum Ía Öˇirum abi
ab‹ya “my grandfather ¡.’s younger brother”
(51). Lu-Inanna is thus ostensibly Gimil-Marduk’s great-uncle. In his petition to Aw‹lNabi’um, however, Gimil-Marduk identifies
his great-uncle and oppressor as Apil-il‹Íu, son
of Lu-Dumununna (5). Given the confusion in
genealogical epithets and the predominance of
Lu-Inanna in the role of the wicked relative, it
seems likely that Apil-il‹Íu was Lu-Inanna’s
heir, who after the latter’s death held on to
Gimil-Marduk’s inheritance as if it were his
own. It is just feasible that Apil-il‹Íu was LuInanna’s brother as well as heir, and thus that he
is correctly identified as Gimil-Marduk’s greatuncle, but according to the tale’s chronology he
would surely have been improbably ancient by
the time the case was resolved in Gimil-Marduk’s favor. The story is more plausible if Apilil‹Íu was actually the great-uncle’s son, i.e.
Gimil-Marduk’s first cousin once removed and
of the same generation as Utlatum, Gimil-Marduk’s father.
Other variants cause fewer problems. In ll. 5
and 18 MS B probably adds the title paÍ‹Íum,
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
written lúgudu4, to Lu-Dumununna’s name,
whereas the other manuscripts lack it, but damage precludes certainty on this point. In the
generic list of officials one manuscript (A) writes
gudu4meÍ “paÍ‹Íum-priests” where the other two
(BC) write more specifically gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ
gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ “paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and
Ninurta” (6–8, 14–16, 65–66, 75–77). In l. 11
precative lirÍi (A) alternates with imperative ÍurÍi
(BC). In the repetition all manuscripts have ÍurÍi
(62). The second date is given in more abbreviated form in MS A (and probably B) than in C
(31). The elegant syntax of MS A in writing [ana
b‹t] Ninkarnunna il‹ya er¤bim [immer ni]qî naqê ul
iddinam (27–28) contrasts with MSS BC’s more
clumsy [an]a b‹t Ninkarnunna il‹ya ana er¤bimma
immer niq[î] (ana) [na]qê. In l. 29 MS A has the
old-fashioned form uÍt⁄‰i’anni where MS C has
uÍt⁄‰ânni, a modernization. In ll. 38–39 MS A
has a phrase u ina em›qim dars⁄ku that MS C
omits, whereas C writes ulammid› (pl.) where A
has the singular. MS C also leaves out two
whole clauses from the account of Sîn-iq‹Íam’s
convening of the assembly (ll. 46–47) and omits
the ancestral epithet of ¡ˇirum in l. 51 and the
verb iqb‹ma in l. 57. Both MS A and MS C omit
l. 60, although it seems to report a crucial development in Gimil-Marduk’s saga of failure. MS
C omits Aw‹l-Nabi’um’s professional title in l.
63, whereas MS A retains it, while in l. 74 A
refers to him by honorific and title (aw‹lim Íukkallim) where B uses name and [title] and C
honorific, name, and title. At the beginning of
l. 73 MS A is broken but seems to have contained some phrase other than MSS BC’s ina
›m‹Í›ma. In the list of officers of the assembly
before whom Gimil-Marduk grasped Ninurta’s
symbol, MS A has Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk (76) differently placed from MSS BC (75). In the tally
of officials set out in two sub-columns (a and b)
on col. iv (82–96) MS A differs from MSS BC
in the number and order of the officials. Damage to MS A prevents full knowledge of the differences, but it is immediately apparent that it
omits Ibni-Amurrum at the beginning (82a) and
that the manuscripts disagree about at least two
names further on in the list: Iddin-Ninurta (A)
and Iddin-Ninlil (BC) are variants in l. 82b and,
more seriously, Ninlil-mu[ . . . ] (A) and Utul-
125
IÍtar (B) in l. 95b. MSS BC largely agree, but in
ll. 91a and 91b MS B omits two names that are
present in MSS A and C.
Small errors also occur. Both preserved
manuscripts (BC) write an⁄ku at the end of the
first line, in false anticipation of his self-identification in the following passage of direct
speech (4). The word purussâ, when spelled
without mimation, is written without plene
spelling of the last vowel (11 C, 62 BC). MS A
is guilty of lipography in ll. 30 and 76, MS B in
l. 8. In l. 58 MS C writes genitive aw‹lim for
nominative. At the boundary of ll. 77–78 MS B
(probably also C) omits the verb iÍÍi’a.
In the pattern of both variants and errors, it
can be seen that MSS B and C are often (but not
always) in agreement against MS A. The existence of three manuscripts of this juridical document and the repertoire of mistakes and
variant readings displayed in them indicate that
these tablets are copies. In this respect it is significant that none of the tablets bears the seal
impressions expected on an original juridical
document. The copying of such documents is a
well-known practice of the Babylonian scribal
tradition, by means of which scribal apprentices
learned the conventional format, language, and
style of juridical documents. Selected exemplars
formed a genre of the scribal tradition and were
sometimes copied in groups on collective tablets. They are now usually categorized as “model court documents.” The place of the present
composition in this genre will be discussed in
the commentary below. For the moment it is
enough to propose that, as a model court document extant in multiple copies, the composition became part of scribal literature for a while
at the end of the Old Babylonian period. This
justifies its inclusion in the present volume as a
piece of Babylonian literature in the wider
sense; the commentary will explore the composition’s nature further, asking whether it derives
from real life or is a fiction.
Aspects of Language and Writing
The tablets are notable for their lack of ruled
lines. Despite their late date, the three witnesses
to the text all display good Old Babylonian
writing practices. Mimation is seldom omitted:
Babylonian Literary Texts
126
pu-ru-us-sà (11 C), pu-úÓ-ri (19 ABC), ma-aÓ-rii-ma (34 A), e-de-Íu(-ma) (36–37 AC), pu-úÓ-ri
(54 AC), Íar-ri (58 ABC), pu-ru-us-sà (62 BC), iÍÍi-a (78 A), in personal names i-qí-Ía (41, 43, 44
C), Íu-mu (88 C), ta-ri-bu (95–96 BC); but it is
once written in error: ti-ik-la-{am} (75 B) for
tikl⁄. Geminated consonants are normally written plene but note: ú-qe4-ri-bu-nim-ma (17 A), sílá-kum (21 A) // sí-lá-ku (C) in a year-name, ika-lu (26 C), ú-la-mi-du (39 C). Vowels on finally weak verbs can be written plene: i-de-e (30 C);
note also the plene spelling of a short vowel in ilma-a-ad (36 A).
Spelling is mixed. The treatment of /sV/ is
inconsistent, using signs from the SV range and
the ZV range: sa in da-ar-sa-ku (38 A), da-ar-saan-ni-ma (52 AC), ri-ik-sa-tim (56 ABC), ri-ik-sa-
ti-Íu (60 B), pu-ru-us-sa? (62 A) and si in is-si (45
AC) v. sà in pu-ru-us-sà-(am) (11 AC), pu-ru-ussà (62 BC) and sú in Íi-bu-us-sú-nu (71 BC, 78
ABC). The sign bi is used for the syllable /pi/:
na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia (37 AC), dub-pí (58 ABC, 60 B).
There is one usage of qe4 for /qe/: ú-qe4-ri-bunim-ma (17 A), which is otherwise written with
qé: ú-qé-er-ri-bu-nim-ma (17 BC), ú-qé-er-ri-bunim (49 A). This may be a case of updating. A
clearer case of modernization is uÍ-ta-‰í-a-an-ni
(29 A), in MS C rendered with contraction, uÍta-‰a-a-an-ni.
In the following transcription and transliteration the line-numbering follows MS A up to l.
81, except that a line omitted in that manuscript
is included (60). From l. 82 the numeration follows MSS BC.
TRANSCRIPTION
Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum apil Lu-Dumununna 2 maÓar aw‹lim Aw‹l-Nabi’um
Íukkallim 3 k‹’am idbub umma Í›ma
4
[m⁄r Utl]atum m⁄r Öˇirum m⁄r (B m⁄r-m⁄ri Ía) Lu-Dumununna an⁄ku 5 Apil-il‹Íu m⁄r LuDumununna aÓi abi ab‹ya Óablanni 6 Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil 7 Íandabakk‹ n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Íi (BC
paÍ‹Í‹ Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) 8 u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 9 ana maÓr‹ka liqerrib›nimma 10 dab⁄b‹
l‹mur›ma Íapt‹Íunu Íim¤ma 11 d‹n‹ purussâm lirÍi (BC ÍurÍi)
12
ann‹tam iqbi (BC iqb‹ma) 13 aw‹lum Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallum 14 iÍpur Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil 15 Íandabakk‹ n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Íi (BC paÍ‹Í‹ Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) 16 u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 17 ana maÓr‹Íu uqerrib›nimma 18 Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum m⁄r-m⁄r (BC m⁄rm⁄ri Ía) Lu-Dumununna (B adds lú[paÍ‹Íim?]) 19 ina puÓri Ía Nippuru 20 k‹’am idbub umma Í›ma
21
ina Íanat Ammiditana Íarrum D›r-Ammiditana ina kiÍ⁄d Silakkum 22 ana Nippuru allik 23
immer niqîm ana Ninkarnunna il‹ya 24 naÍi’⁄k›ma 25 Lu-Inanna aÓi Öˇirum aÓi ab‹ya 26 Ía paÍ‹Í›t
Mulliltim zitti Öˇirum abi ab‹ya ikkalu 27 [an]a b‹t Ninkarnunna il‹ya er¤bim (BC ana er¤bimma) 28
immer niqîm naqê (B ana [naqê]) ul iddinam 29 id›kann‹ma ana b⁄bim uÍt⁄‰i’anni (C uÍt⁄‰ânni) 30
dab⁄bam Íu’⁄ti ⁄lum Nippuru ‹de
31
ina Íanat Ammi‰aduqa Íarrum r¤’ûm waÍrum 32 in›ma Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir gall⁄bum 33 itti niqîm ana
Nippuru illikam 34 adbub k‹ma maÓrîmma 35 id›kanni Íalamt‹ iddi 36 ⁄lum Nippuru ilmad 37 ed¤Íumma ana napiÍt‹ya aplaÓma 38 k‹ma Óabl⁄ku (A adds u ina em›qim dars⁄ku) 39 ⁄lam Nippuru ulammidma (C ulammid›) aqt›l
40
ina Íanat Ammi‰aduqa Íarrum ‰alamÍu gitm⁄lam 41 in›ma aw‹lum Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim 42 ana
D›r-AbieÍuÓ Ía zibbat °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ illikam 43 maÓar aw‹lim Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim adbub
44
aw‹lum Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim 45 puÓram Ía Nippuru issi 46 awât‹ya am⁄ram iqb‹Íun›Íim 47 puÓrum
Ía Nippuru iÍpur 48 Lu-Inanna aÓi abi ab‹ya (C aÓi Öˇirum aÓi ab‹ya) ana maÓar aw‹lim abi ‰⁄bim
49
u puÓri Ía Nippuru uqerrib›nim 50 dab⁄bni ‹mur›ma 51 k‹ma Lu-Inanna aÓum ‰eÓrum Ía Öˇirum
abi ab‹ya 52 ina em›qim darsann‹ma 53 paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim ikkalu 54 ina puÓri Ía Nippuru ukinn›ma 55
ˇ¤mÍunu ana aw‹lim abi ‰⁄bim 56 uterr›ma kan‹k riks⁄tim 57 Íuknukam iqb‹ma 58 ˇuppi Íarrim illikamma 59 aw‹lum abi ‰⁄bim uÍt¤Íer 60 ˇuppi riks⁄t‹Íu ul [uÍaknik›] (AC om.) 61 inanna Íapt‹ ⁄lim Nippuru Íime 62 d‹n‹ purussâ ÍurÍi
1
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
127
63
ann‹tam iqbi 64 aw‹lum Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallum iÍpur 65 Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil Íandabakk‹
66
n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Í‹ (BC add Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 67 uÍz‹zma Íapt‹Íunu iÍm¤ma 68
k‹ma Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum 69 aÓum rabûm Ía Lu-Inanna u paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim 70 Ía leqêÍu
iqbû dab⁄bÍunu ‹mur›ma 71 Í‹b› Í‹b›ssunu k‹ma Gimil-Marduk 72 m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum aÓum rabûm (C
om.) apil (C aplum Ía) Lu-Dumununna ‹dû (BC om.) 73 iqbû ina ›m‹Í›ma (A differs) Gimil-Marduk Í›
74
kakkam Ía Ninurta ana maÓar aw‹lim Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallim 75 Ibni-UraÍ muwerrim Íatammi Íarrim 76
Íandabakki Ellil Íandabakk‹ Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk gall⁄bim 77 n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Í‹ (BC add Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta)
u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 78 iÍÍi’a Í‹b› Í‹b›ssunu maÓar Ninurta il ⁄l‹Íunu 79 k‹ma Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum
m⁄r Öˇirum 80 u paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim Ía leqêÍu iqbû
81
ditilla maÓar Ninurta aw⁄t puÓri Ía Nippuru 82a Ibni-Amurru Íatammi Íarrim 83a Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir Íatammi Íarrim 84a Utu-mupadda Íandabakki Ellil 85a Girini-isag dayy⁄num 86a Sîn-iddinam Íatammum 87a UtumanÍum sir⁄Íûm 88a fiumum-libÍi sir⁄Íûm 89a Nabi-Ellil sir⁄Íûm 90a Ellil-b¤l-il‹ paÍ‹Í Mulliltim 91a Ur-Sadarnunna(!) sir⁄Íê Ellil 92a Ur-ukkingalla paÍ‹Í Mulliltim 82b Iddin-Ninurta (BC Iddin-Mulliltum) Íandabakkum
83b
Utu-lu-ti Íandabakkum 84b Iddin-Ninurta n¤Íakkum 85b Ellil-manÍum n¤Íakkum 86b Ibbi-Ellil n¤Íakkum 87b
Lu-UraÍ n¤Íakkum 88b Ninurta-muÍallim n¤Íakkum 89b Nanna-meÍa n¤Íakkum 90b Ellil-muballiˇ n¤Íakkum 91b
KA-Ninurta n¤Íakkum 92b Ku-Ninimma n¤Íakkum 93b Imgur-Ninurta paÍ‹Í Ninurta 94b Aw‹l-Sîn paÍ‹Í
Ninurta 95b Utul-IÍtar paÍ‹Í Ninurta (A Mulliltu-mu[ . . . ]) 96b Tar‹bum ˇupÍarrum
97
fiab⁄ˇum ud.10.kam 98 Íanat Samsuditana Íarrum ina em›q‹n rabâtim Ía fiamaÍ u Mar›duk raggam u
‰¤nam(!) . . . kar⁄Í nakr‹Íu uͤ‰û
TRANSLATION
Gimil-Marduk, son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, heir of Lu-Dumununna, 3 complained thus 2
before His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, 3 saying as follows:
4
“I am [the son of] Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, son (B: grandson) of Lu-Dumununna. 5 My grandfather’s brother, Apil-il‹Íu, son of Lu-Dumununna, is wronging me. 9 Let them bring before you 6
the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, 7 the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the
paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) 8 and the office-holders of Nippur, 10 so
they can examine my complaint. Listen to what they say and 11 let my case obtain resolution (BC:
bring resolution to my case).”
12
This is what he said. 13 His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um 14 sent instructions. 17 They
brought before him 14 the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, 15 the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the
paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) 16 and the officeholders of Nippur, and 18 Gimil-Marduk, son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, grandson of Lu-Dumununna the [paÍ‹Íum-priest], 20 complained thus 19 in the assembly of Nippur, 20 saying as follows:
21
“In the year King Ammiditana [Built] Fort Ammiditana on the Bank of the Silakkum Canal
(= Ammiditana 16) 22 I went to Nippur. 24 I was carrying 23 a sacrificial lamb for my god, Ninkarnunna, but 25 Lu-Inanna, brother of ¡ˇirum, my father’s father(! tablets: brother), 26 who had the usufruct of the prebend of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil, the share of ¡ˇirum, my father’s father, 28 did not
allow me 27 to enter the chapel of my god, Ninkarnunna, and 28 sacrifice the sacrificial lamb. 29 He
beat me and drove me out through the gate. 30 The city of Nippur knew of this affair.
31
“In the year King Ammi‰aduqa, the Humble Shepherd (= Ammi‰aduqa 2), 32 when Nabi’umn⁄‰ir the barber 33 came to Nippur with a sacrifice 34 I complained. As before 35 he (Lu-Inanna) beat
me and left me for dead (lit. threw down my corpse). 36 The city of Nippur learned (about it). 37 Once
again I feared for my life and 39 informed (C: they informed) the city of Nippur 38 that I was wronged
(A adds: and driven away by force), 39 but then I kept quiet.
40
“In the year King Ammi‰aduqa [Made] his Noble Statue (= Ammi‰aduqa 17b), 41 when His
Excellency the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam 42 came to D›r-AbieÍuÓ at the outflow of the waterway °ammurapi [Provides] the People’s Prosperity, 43 I complained in the presence of His Excellency the minister
Sîn-iq‹Íam. 44 His Excellency the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam 45 summoned the assembly of Nippur. 46 He
1
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Babylonian Literary Texts
ordered them to examine my case. 47 The assembly of Nippur sent instructions. 49 They brought 48
Lu-Inanna, the brother of my grandfather (C: the brother of ¡ˇirum, my father’s brother), into the
presence of His Excellency the minister 49 and the assembly of Nippur. 50 They examined our complaint and 54 established in the assembly of Nippur 51 that Lu-Innana, the younger brother of ¡ˇirum,
my father’s father, 52 was driving me away by force and 53 keeping the usufruct of the paÍ‹Íum-priesthood of Ninlil, so 56 they sent 55 their report back to His Excellency the minister and 57 he ordered
56
that a legal contract 57 be endorsed by sealing. 58 Then the king’s tablet came, and 59 His Excellency
the minister (then) went on his way. 60 (But) [they did] not [have] his tablet documenting the contract [endorsed by sealing.] 61 Now, listen to what the city of Nippur says, 62 bring resolution to my
case.”
63
This is what he said. 64 His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um sent instructions. 67 He convened 65 the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, the deans, 66 the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests
(BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) and the office-holders of Nippur, 67 and listened to what they said, and 70 they said 68 that Gimil-Marduk was the son of Utlatum,
son of ¡ˇirum, 69 was senior to Lu-Inanna and the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil 70 was his to keep.
They examined their statements 71 and witnesses 73 gave 71 their testimony that 72 they knew 71 GimilMarduk 72 was the son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, was the senior party and (so) was Lu-Dumununna’s heir. 73 At that time the aforesaid Gimil-Marduk 78 lifted 74 the standard of Ninurta in the presence of His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, 75 Ibni-UraÍ the leader of the assembly, the clerk
of the king, 76 the dean of Enlil, the deans, Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk the barber, 77 the n¤Íakkum-priests, the
paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) and the officeholders of Nippur. 78 The witnesses 80 gave 78 their testimony before Ninurta, the god of their city,
79
that Gimil-Marduk was the son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum 80 and the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of
Ninlil was his to keep.
81
Final verdict in the presence of Ninurta, command of the assembly of Nippur. 82a Ibni-Amurrum, clerk of the king (A omits); 83a Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, clerk of the king, 84a Utu-mupadda, dean of Enlil,
85a
Girini-isag, judge; 86a Sîn-iddinam, clerk; 87a Utu-manÍum, brewer; 88a fiumum-libÍi, brewer; 89a
Nabi-Enlil, brewer; 90a Enlil-b¤l-il‹, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil; 91a Ur-Sadarnunna, brewer of Enlil (B
omits); 92a Ur-ukkingalla, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil; 82b Iddin-Ninurta (BC: Iddin-Ninlil), dean; 83b Utulu-ti, dean; 84b Iddin-Ninurta, n¤Íakkum-priest; 85b Enlil-manÍum, n¤Íakkum-priest; 86b Ibbi-Enlil,
n¤Íakkum-priest; 87b Lu-UraÍ, n¤Íakkum-priest; 88b Ninurta-muÍallim, n¤Íakkum-priest; 89b NannameÍa, n¤Íakkum-priest; 90b Enlil-muballiˇ, n¤Íakkum-priest; 91b KA-Ninurta, n¤Íakkum-priest (B omits);
92b
Ku-Ninimma, n¤Íakkum-priest; 93b Imgur-Ninurta, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta; 94b Aw‹l-Sîn,
paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta; 95b Utul-IÍtar, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta (A: Ninlil-mu[ . . . ]); 96b Tar‹bum,
scribe.
97
Month 11, day 10. 98 Year King Samsuditana, through the Great Might of fiamaÍ and Marduk,
Smote(?) Evil and Wickedness(?), and Drove out the Camp(!?) of his Enemy.
129
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
SYNOPTIC TEXT
A = 3209/1, B = 3209/2, C = 3209/3
Table showing the disposition of lines by column (i–iv) and edges
MS
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4
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8
9
10
11
12
13
14
i
edge
ii
edge
iii
edge
iv
iii–iv
edge
[1]–24
1–24
1–24
25–26
25–26
25–27
27–54
27–[53?]
28–55
55–59
54 only?
56–59
61–81
55–79
61–81
82–96
81–97
82–97
97–98
80
98 (cont.)
98
98
B
C
B
C
B
C
B
C
A
B
C
A
B
C
A
B
C
A
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m
gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum / dumu e-ˇi-rum ibila lú.dumu.nun.na {a-na-ku}
‚gi-milŸ-damar.utu ‚dumu ut-la-tumŸ / [dumu] ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum ibila lú.dumu.nun.na {a-[naku]}
ma-Óar a-wi-lim a-wi-il-dn[a-b]i-um sukkal
[ . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-wi-‚il-dna-biŸ-um su[kkal]
[ki]-‚a-amŸ id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma
[ . . . . . . . . i]d-bu-ub um-ma Íu-‚úŸ-[m]a
[dumu ut-l]a-tum dumu e-ˇi-‚rum dumu dumu Ía lú.dumu.nun.naŸ / [a-na-ku]
[ . . . . . . . . . . . . ] dum[u] e-ˇi-rum dumu lú.dumu.nu[n.na] a-na-ku
[ma-p]il-ì-lí-‚ÍuŸ [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] / [Í]eÍ a-bi a-bi-ia ‚Óa-ab-la-anŸ-[ni]
m
‚aŸ-p[il- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . l]ú‚gudu4?Ÿ / Í[eÍ . . . . . . . . . . . . ]-la-an-‚niŸ
[ma-pil]-‚ìŸ-lí-‚ÍuŸ dumu lú.dumu.[nun.n]a / [ÍeÍ a-bi] ‚aŸ-bi-ia Óa-ab-la-[ . . . ]
[Í]à.tam.tam lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.l[á]
Íà.tam.tam lu[gal . . .
. . . pi]san.dub.bame[Í]
[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . pis]an.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.du[b.bameÍ]
pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4meÍ
[n]u.èÍmeÍ [ . . . . . . . . . . . ] gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ
[ . . . . . . . gud]u4.dnin.lílmeÍ g[udu4.dnin.urtameÍ]
ù lúÍu-ut te-re-e-[t]im Ía nibruki
‚ùŸ Íu-ut t[e-re-e-ti]m <Ía> nibruki
[ . . . . . t]e-re-tim ‚ÍaŸ ni[bruki]
a-na ma-aÓ-ri-ka li-qé-er-r[i-bu-n]im
a-na ma-aÓ-r[i-ka li-q]é-er-ri-b[u]-nim-ma
[ . . . . . . . . -r]i-ka li-[ . . . . . . . . . -ni]m
da-ba-bi li-mu-ru Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu Íi-me-‚e-maŸ
da-ba-[ . . . . . . . -m]a Ía-ap-ti-‚ÍuŸ-nu / Íi-m[e]-‚e-maŸ
[ . . . . . ] li-mu-ru-ma ‚Ía-ap-ti-ÍuŸ-nu / [Íi]-me-‚eŸ-ma
di-ni pu-ru-us-sà-am li-ir-Íi
di-ni [ . . . . . . . . . Í]u-ur-Í[i]
[ . . . p]u-r[u-u]s-sà Íu-ur-Íi
an-ni-tam iq-bi
an-[ . . . . i]q-bi-i-ma
[ . . . . . . . i]q-bi-i-ma
{m} a-wi-lum a-wi-il-dna-bi-um sukkal
‚a-wiŸ-l[um . . . . . -d]‚na-bi-umŸ sukkal
[ . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-[wi-il-dn]a-bi-um sukkal
iÍ-pu-ur Íà.tam.tam lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá
iÍ-pu-u[r . . . . . . . . . lu]gal.la [pisan].‚dubŸ.[ba de]n.‚líl.láŸ
[ . . . -u]r Í[à.ta]m.tam lugal ‚pisan.dub.baŸ den.líl.lá
[m]
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pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4meÍ
pisan.dub.ba[meÍ nu.èÍme]Í [gudu4.dni]n.lílmeÍ
[ . . . . .b]ameÍ [n]u.èÍm[eÍ gudu4.dni]n.lílmeÍ
ù lúÍu-ut te-re-e-tim Ía nibruki
gudu4.dni[n.urtameÍ] ‚ù Íu-utŸ [te-r]e-ti[m Í]a nibruki
[ . . . .dn]in.urta[me]Í ù ‚Íu-ut te-reŸ-tim
a-na ma-aÓ-ri-Íu ú-qe4-ri-bu-nim-ma
a-na ma-a[Ó-r]i-‚Íu úŸ-qé-er-ri-[b]u-nim-ma
[Ía ni]bruki ‚a-naŸ ma-aÓ-ri-Íu / ‚úŸ-qé-er-ri-bu-nim-ma
m
gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum / dumu dumu lú.dumu.nun.na
m
gi-mil- damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum / ‚dumu dumu ÍaŸ lú.dumu.nu[n.na]
‚lúŸ[gudu4?]
[m]gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum / dumu dumu Ía lú.dumu.nun.na
i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki
i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruk[i]
[ . . . p]u-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki
ki-a-am id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ma
ki-a-am id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma
[ . . . . ] ‚id-buŸ-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma
i-na mu am-mi-di-ta-na lugal.e / bàd am-mi-di-ta-‚na gúŸ sí-lá-kum.ma.ta
i-na mu am-mi-di-ta-na l[ugal.e] / bàd am-mi-di-ta-na g[ú . . . . . . . . . . . ]
[ . . . . . . . . . . ]-‚diŸ-ta-na lugal.e / [ . . . . . . . . ]-‚di-taŸ-na gú íd.sí!-‚lá-kuŸ.ma!.ta
‚aŸ-na nibruki al-li-ik
a-na ‚nibrukiŸ [ . . . . ]
[ . . . . . . k]i al-li-ik
[u]du.níta sískur a-na dnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia
udu.níta [ . . .
[ . . . . . . . . . . . ] a-na dnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia
[n]a-Íi-a-ku-ma
na-[ . . .
[na-Í]i-a-‚kuŸ-ma
m
lú-dinanna ÍeÍ e-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ a-bi-ia
[...
[mlú-di]nanna ÍeÍ ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ a-bi-ia
[Í]a nam.gudu4.dnin.líl.lá Óa.la e-ˇi-rum / a-bi a-bi-ia ik-ka-lu
Ía gudu4.dnin.líl.l[á Óa.la] ‚e-ˇiŸ-[rum a-bi] / ‚aŸ-bi-‚iaŸ
[ . . . . . ].‚dŸnin.líl Óa.la e-ˇi-rum a-bi-ia / i-ka-lu
[a-na é] ‚dŸnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia e-re-bi-im
i[k-ka-lu . . .
[a-n]a é dnin-kar-nun-na ‚dingirŸ-ia
[udu.níta sís]kur na-qé-e ú-ul id-‚diŸ-nam
a-[na e-re-bi-im-ma . . . ] / a-na [ . . .
a-na ‚e-reŸ-bi-im-ma udu.níta sísk[ur na-q]é-e!
[i-du-k]a-an-ni-ma a-na ba-bi-im uÍ-ta-‚‰íŸ-a-an-ni
i-du-ka-a[n-ni-ma . . . ] / [u]Í-‚taŸ-[ . . .
‚úŸ-ul id-di-nam i-du-ka-an-ni-ma / a-na ba-bi-im uÍ-ta-‰a-a-an-ni
[da-b]a-ba-am Íu-a-ti uruki nibruki i-<de-e>
[d]a-ba-b[a-a]m Í[u-a-ti . . .
da-ba-ba-am Íu-a-‚tiŸ uruki nibruki i-de-e
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
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A
[i]-na mu am-mi-‰a-du-qá lugal.e / sipa sun5.na
i-na mu am-mi-‰[a- . . . ] / sipa s[un5.na]
i-na mu am-mi-‰a-du-qá lugal.e / sipa sun5.na an den.líl.la.bi.da.aÍ
[i-n]u-ma dna-bi-um-na-‰i-ir Íu.i
i-‚nu-maŸ dn[a- . . .
i-nu-ma dna-bi-um-na-‰i-‚irŸ Íu.i
[it-t]i sískur a-na nibruki il-li-kam
it-ti sískur [ . . . ] x [ . . . ]
it-ti sískur a-na nibr[uki . . . . ]
[ad-b]u-ub ki-ma ma-aÓ-ri-i-ma
ad-bu-ub [ki-ma m]a-aÓ-[ . . . ]
ad-bu-ub ki-ma ma-aÓ-[ . . . . ]
‚iŸ-[d]u-ka-an-ni Ía-lam!-ti id-di
i-du-ka-a[n-ni Í]a-‚laŸ-[ . . . ]
i-du-ka-an-ni Ía-l[a-am-ti . . . ]
‚uruŸ[ki n]ibruki il-ma!-a-ad
[uruki] ni[bruki . . . . . . -a]d
‚urukiŸ nibruki i[l- . . . ] ‚eŸ-de-Íu-ma
e-de-‚ÍuŸ a-na na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia ap-la-aÓ-ma
[...
a-‚naŸ na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia ap-[la-aÓ-ma ki-ma]
ki-ma ‚ÓaŸ-ab-la-ku ù i-na e-mu-‚qí-imŸ da-ar-sa-ku
Ó[a- . . .
Ó[a-a]b-la-ku uruki ni[bruki]
uruki nibruki ‚úŸ-la-‚amŸ-mi-id-ma ‚aqŸ-tu-ul
ú-lam-m[i- . . .
ú-‚laŸ-mi-du a[q- . . . ]
i-na mu am-m[i-‰a-d]u-‚q០lugal.e / alam Í[à.aÍ].Ía4.a.ni
‚i-na muŸ am-m[i- . . . ] / ‚alamŸ [ . . .
i-na mu a[m-mi-‰]a-du-qá [lugal].‚eŸ / ala[m . . . ].‚Ía4Ÿ.a.ni
i-nu-ma a-wi-lum de[n.zu]-‚iŸ-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin
‚iŸ-nu-ma a-w[i- . . .
i-nu-ma a-w[i-lum de]n.‚zuŸ-i-qí-Ía a-bi érin
a-na bàd-a-bi-e-Íu-uÓki ‚ÍaŸ kunÓá ídÓa-am-mu-ra-pí- / nu-Óu-uÍ-ni-Íi il-li-kam
‚aŸ-na bàd-[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] / n[u- . . .
a-na bàd-‚aŸ-[bi]-‚eŸ-Íu Ía kun íd.da Óa-mu!-ra-pí- / nu-Óu-uÍ-[n]i-Íi il-li-[k]am
ma-Óar a-wi-lim den.zu-i-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin ad-bu-ub
‚maŸ-[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] a-b[i . . . ]
ma-Óar a-wi-li[m den.z]u-i-‚qíŸ-Ía a-bi érin ‚adŸ-bu-ub
a-wi-lum den.zu-i-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin
[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-bi [ér]in
a-wi-lu[m de]n.zu-i-qí-Ía a-bi érin
pu-úÓ-ra-am Ía nibruki is-si
pu-[ú]Ó-‚raŸ-am Ía nibruki is-si
a-wa-ti-ia a-ma-ra-am iq-bi-Íu-nu-Íi-im
om.
pu-úÓ-rum Ía nibruki iÍ-pu-ur
om.
m
lú-dinanna ÍeÍ a-bi a-bi-ia a-na ma-[Óar] a-wi-lim a-bi érin
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m
[lú]-‚dŸinanna ÍeÍ e-ˇi-rum a-Ói a-bi-ia
ù pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki ú-qé-er-‚riŸ-bu-nim
‚aŸ-[na m]a-Óar a-wi-lim a-bi érin ù pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki
da-ba-ab-ni i-mu-ru-ma
[ú-qé]-ri-bu-nim da-ba-ab-ni / ‚iŸ-mu-ru-ma
ki-ma lú-dinanna ÍeÍ.bàn.da Ía e-ˇi-rum a-bi a-bi-ia
k[i-ma] lú-dinanna ÍeÍ tur Ía e-ˇi-rum
i-na e-mu-qí-im da-ar-sa-an-ni-ma
i-n[a] e-mu-qí-im da-ar-sa-an-ni-ma
nam.gudu4.dnin.líl.lá i-ik-ka-lu
nam.gudu4.dnin.líl i-ik-ka-lu-ma
i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki ú-ki-in-nu-ma
[ . . . . . . . ]-ri [ . . . . . ] / ú-‚ki-inŸ-nu-[ma]
i-na pu-úÓ-ri ‚ÍaŸ nibruki / ú-ki-in-nu-ma
ˇe4-em-Íu-nu a-na a-wi-lim a-bi érin
ˇe4-‚em-ÍuŸ-nu a-na a-wi-lim a-[ . . . . . . ]
ˇe4-em-Íu-nu ‚a-na a-wiŸ-lim ‚a-biŸ érin
ú-te-er-ru-ma ka-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim
‚kaŸ-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim Íu-[ . . . . . . . . . . . ]
ú-te-‚erŸ-ru-ma / ka-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim Íu-uk-nu-kam
Íu-uk-nu-kam iq-bi-i-ma
<iq-bi-i-ma>
dub-pí Íar-ri il-li-kam-ma
dub-pí Íar-‚ri ilŸ-li-kam-ma [ . . . . . . . . . . . . ]
dub-pí Íar-ri il-li-kam-ma a-wi-lim (sic!) a-bi érin
a-wi-lum ‚a-bi érinŸ uÍ-te-Íe-er
uÍ-te-Íe-‚erŸ
uÍ-te-Íe-er
om.
dub-pí ri-ik-sa-ti-Íu ú-u[l ú-Ía-ak-ni-ku]
om.
‚i-na-an-naŸ [ . . . . . . . nibr]uki Íi-me
i-na-an-na Ía-ap-ti uruki nib[ruki . . . ]
[i-n]a-an-na Ía-ap-ti uruki nibruki Íi-me
‚di-ni pu-ru-us-sa? Íu-urŸ-Íi
di-ni pu-ru-us-sà Íu-u[r-Íi]
[d]i-ni pu-ru-us-sà Íu-ur-Íi
an-ni-t[am] iq-bi
an-ni-tam iq-bi-i-ma a-wi-lum ‚aŸ-wi-il-‚dnaŸ-[bi-um] / iÍ-pu-ur
an-‚ni-tamŸ iq-bi a-wi-lum a-wi-il-dna-bi-um iÍ-pu-ur
a-wi-lum a-‚wi-ilŸ-dna-bi-‚umŸ sukkal iÍ-‚puŸ-ur
Íà.tam.tam.‚lugal.laŸ [pisan.dub.ba] ‚den.lílŸ.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ
Íà.tam.t[am] lugal pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ
Íà.tam.‚tamŸ lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.‚dub.baŸmeÍ
nu.èÍmeÍ ‚gudu4.dŸ[nin.lílme]Í! gudu4.dnin.urtame[Í]
nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ
nu.èÍmeÍ [gu]du4meÍ ù lúÍu-‚utŸ [te-re-ti]m Ía nibruki
‚ùŸ Íu-ut te-re-tim [Í]a nibruki
ù Íu-ut te-re-tim Ía nibruki
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
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81
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133
[ . . . . . . . . . ]-‚ap-ti-ÍuŸ-nu [ . . . . -m]a
uÍ-zi-iz-ma Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu iÍ-me-e-ma
uÍ-zi-[i]z-ma Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu iÍ-me-e-ma
[...
ki-ma gi-mil-d‚amarŸ.utu dumu ut-‚laŸ-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum
ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ‚ut-laŸ-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum
[...
ÍeÍ gal Ía l[ú]-d‚inannaŸ ù nam.gudu4 Ía d[ . . . ]
ÍeÍ gal Ía lú-dinanna [ù na]m.gudu4 d nin.líl
Í[a . . .
Ía le-qé-e-‚Íu iqŸ-bu-ú / da-ba-ab-Íu-nu i-mu-ru-ma
Ía le-qé-e-Íu iq-bu-‚úŸ da-ba-ab-Íu-nu i-mu-ru
Í[i- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -m]il-damar.utu
Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ki-ma gi-mil-damar.ut[u]
Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu
[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ]x lú.dumu.nun.na i-du-ú
dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ gal ibila lú.dum[u.nun.na . . . ] / iq-bu-ú
dumu ‚utŸ-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ibila Ía lú.dumu.nun.na i-du-ú
[ . . . . . . . . . ]x-Íu-nu gi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú
i-na ú-mi-Íu-ú-‚maŸ gi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú
iq-bu-ú i-na u4-mi-Íu-‚úŸ-ma / mgi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú giÍtukul Ía dnin-urta
[ . . . . . . . . . . -n]a ma-Óar a-wi-lim sukkal
giÍ
‚tukul ÍaŸ dnin-u[rta] ‚aŸ-na ma-Óar a-wi-il-dna-bi-u[m . . . ]
‚aŸ-na ma-Óar a-wi-lim a-wi-il-dna-bi-um sukkal
[ . . . . . . . . . gal].‚ukkinŸ.na Íà.tam.tam lugal.la
m
ib-ni-‚duraÍŸ [gal.ukk]in.na mti-ik-la-{am}-a-n[a- . . . ]
m
‚ Ÿib-ni-duraÍ gal.ukkin.na mti-ik-la-a-na-damar.utu Íu.i
[pisan.dub.ba den.líl.l]á ‚pisanŸ.dub.bameÍ mti-ik-la-<a-na>-damar.utu Íu.i
Íà.tam.tam lugal.la [pisa]n.dub.ba den.líl.lá
‚Íà.tam.tamŸ lugal.la pisan.‚dub.ba denŸ.líl.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ
[nu.èÍmeÍ] ‚gudu4meÍ ùŸ lúÍu-ut te-re-e-tim Ía nibruki
pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4.dnin.lílm[eÍ] / gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ Íu-ut te-‚re-tim Ía!Ÿ nib[ruki]
nu.èÍ‚meÍ gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ gudu4.dŸ[nin.urtam]eÍ / ‚Íu-ut te-re-timŸ Í[a nibruki]
iÍ-‚Íi-aŸ Íi-bu ‚Íi-buŸ-us-sú-nu ma-Óar dnin-urta dingir uruki-Íu-nu
Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-[nu] / ma-Óar ‚dŸ[nin-u]rta dingir uruki-[Íu-nu]
Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ma-[Óar dnin-urta] / dingir uru!ki-Íu-nu ki-ma gi-mi[l-damar.utu]
ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu [du]mu ut-‚laŸ-tum dumu e-‚ˇi-rumŸ
ki-ma g[i-mil-d]‚amar.utuŸ dumu ut-[la-tum]
dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum
ù nam.gudu4 ‚dnin-lílŸ Ía le-q[é-e-Í]u ‚iqŸ-bu-ú
dumu e-ˇi-r[um] ‚ùŸ nam.gudu4 dni[n-líl] / Ía le-[q]é-e-Í[u] / iq-‚bu-úŸ
ù nam.gudu4 dnin-líl Ía le-qé-e-Íu / iq-bu-ú
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A
di.‚til.laŸ [igi dni]n-urta inim pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki
di.til.la igi ‚dnin-urtaŸ / inim pu.úÓ.r[um Ía]‚nibrukiŸ
di.til.la igi dnin-urta / inim pu.úÓ.rum Ía nibruki
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ BC
[ . . . ]-‚dŸnin-urta pisan.dub.ba md‚nàŸ-na-‰ir Íà.tam.tam lugal.la
m
i-din-d‚ninŸ-líl pisan.dub.ba
‚mibŸ-[ni-dmar.d]ú ‚Íà.tam.tam lugalŸ
134
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Babylonian Literary Texts
m
i-din-‚dŸ[ni]n-líl pisan.dub.ba
ib-ni-dmar.dú Íà.tam.tam lugal
md
utu-mu.pàd.da pisan.dub Ía [(x)]
[ . . . . . . .t]i pisan.dub.ba
md
md
utu.[lú].ti pisan.dub.‚baŸ
na-‚biŸ-u[m- . . . ] ‚Íà.tam.tamŸ lugal
md
lú?
md
utu.lú.t[i pi]san.dub.ba
na-bi-um-na-‰i-ir Íà.tam.tam lugal
m
gìri.ni-ì.sa6 di.kud
[ . . . . ]-‚dŸnin-urta nu.èÍ
md
utu-mu.‚pàd pisan.dubŸ.[ba den.lí]l.lá
‚mi-din-dŸ[ni]n-[urta nu.è]Í
m
d
md
i-din- nin-u[rta n]u.èÍ
utu-mu.pàd.da pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá
m d
[ . . . .lí]l-ma-an-Íúm nu.èÍ
‚ en.zuŸ-i-din-‚namŸ Íà.tam
m d
m
gìri.ni-ì.‚sa6 diŸ.kud
[ ] en.líl-[ . . . . . . . . . . ].èÍ
md
m
en.líl-ma.an.‚Íúm nuŸ.èÍ
gìri.ni-ì.sa6 di.kud
[m]‚iŸ-bi-‚denŸ.líl nu.èÍ
m
md
i-bi-[ . . . . . .].èÍ
en.zu-[i-di-n]am Íà.tam
m
d
md
i-bi- en-líl nu.èÍ
en.zu-i-di-nam Íà.tam
m
md
lú-d‚uraÍŸ n[u.èÍ]
utu-ma.an.Íúm lúlu[nga]
m
d
m d
lú- u[raÍ n]u.èÍ
‚ utuŸ-ma.an.Íúm lúlunga
m
md
lú-duraÍ! nu.èÍ
utu-ma.an.Íúm lúlunga
md
m
nin-urta-mu-Í[a-lim nu.èÍ]
Íu-mu-um-‚li-ibŸ-[Íi lúlunga]
md
m
nin-urta-[mu-Í]a-lim / [nu].‚èÍŸ Íu-mu-um-li-ib-Íi / lúlunga
md
m
nin-urta-mu-Ía-lim nu.èÍ
Íu-mu-li-ib-Íi lúlunga
md
m
nanna-m[e.Ía4 nu.èÍ
na-b]i-‚den-lílŸ [x] x x
m
m
‚ Ÿ[ . . . . . . . . . . . . .è]Í
na-bi-den-líl ‚lúlungaŸ
md
m
nanna-me.Ía4 nu.èÍ
na-bi-den-líl lúlunga
om.
m d
md
‚ en-lílŸ-[m]u-ba-lí-iˇ / [n]u.èÍ
en-líl-be-el-ì-lí / gudu4 dnin-líl
md
md
en-líl-mu-ba-lí-iˇ nu.èÍ
en-líl-be-el-ì-lí / gudu4 dnin-líl
m
d
‚KAŸ- nin.urta [nu.èÍ
[ . . . . . . . . . .nu]n.na l[úlung]a
om.
om.
m
d
m
KA- nin.‚urta nu.èÍŸ
ur-d<sa>.dàra.nun.na / ‚lúŸlunga den.líl.lá
m
d
kù- nin.‚ìmmaŸ nu.‚èÍŸ
[..............]
m
m
kù-‚dŸnin.ìmma / nu.èÍ
ur-ukkin.gal.la / gudu4 dnin-líl
m
k[ù-dn]in.‚ìmmaŸ nu.‚èÍŸ
‚mŸ[ . . . . . . ]x / ‚gudu4 dnin-lílŸ
m
xxx[...]
[ . . . ] d[ . . . ]
m
d
d
im-gur- nin-urta gudu4 nin-urta
m
[ im-gur-dnin-ur]ta gudu4 dnin-urta
m
‚sig5?Ÿ-dx x x [ . . . ]
[ . . . ] ‚dŸinanna [x x] x
m
d
d
a-wi-il- en.zu gudu4 nin-urta
[. . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚gudu4 dninŸ-urta
md
[ni]n-‚líl-muŸ-[ . . . ]
[...]xxx[...]
m
ú-túl-iÍ8-tár gudu4 dnin-urta
[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . mt]a-ri-bu
m
‚ta-ri-buŸ-um [dub.sa]r
m
ta-ri-bu dub.sar
[dub.sa]r
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ BC
A [ . . . . ] ‚udŸ.10.kam
B iti.zíz.a ud.10.kam
C iti.zíz.a ud.10.kam
C
A
B
C
A
B
C
A
B
C
A
B
C
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B
C
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B
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B
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B
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B
C
m
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
98
135
A [ . . . ]-‚ta-naŸ lugal.e / [ . . . ] g[al.gal].‚laŸ [dut]u damar.utu.bi.‚da.ke4Ÿ / [ . . . . . . ] kum
‚iŸ ul giÍ? in.tag.ga / [ . . . . . ]
B mu sa-am-sú-di-ta-na lugal.e / usu gal.gal.la dutu damar.utu.bi.da.ke4 / níg.érim níg.á!?(ina).zi.i ul giÍ in.tag.ga / karaÍ(KI.{UD}.KAL™BAD) kúr-Íu íb.ta.an.è.a
C mu sa-am-s[ú- . . . ] / usu gal.gal.l[a . . . ].ke4 / níg.érim níg.[ . . . gi]Í in.tag.ga /
ki.ud.bi!(ga) kal.x[ . . . .t]a.an.è.a
NOTES
1. A patronymy comprising more than one
paternal ancestor is unusual for the Old
Babylonian period, when the father’s
name usually suffices, even in legal texts.
The style of patronymy exhibited here is
unique to my knowledge and reads better
as a two-generation patronymy of Utlatum, rather than a three-generation patronymy of Gimil-Marduk, but it seems that
it belongs to Gimil-Marduk, not his father.
Lu-Dumununna appears in the first millennium as a scribal ancestor in the patronyms of at least two scholars, probably
both from Nippur: Enlil-k⁄‰ir, a kalû (lamentation-priest) of Enlil who owned two
medical commentaries (Civil 1974: 333 l.
55: Íà.bal.bal mlú-dumu.nun.na Íu-me-ru-ú)
and Ibni-Marduk, supposedly the author
of the Series of the Fox (Lambert 1962:
66–67 VI 12: dumu mlú-ddumu.nun.na
lú
u[m.me.a nibru?k]i). The description of
Lu-Dumununna as a “Sumerian” in Enlilk⁄‰ir’s colophon is witness to the enduring
tradition among scribes of Nippur, chiefly
handed down in lexical texts and colophons, that Nippur and Sumer were synonymous (Oelsner 1982, George 1991:
162).
6. The spelling Íà.tam.tam recurs in ll. 82–83,
where it certainly signifies the singular
noun Íatammum. It is also so used in documents of the D›r-AbieÍuÓ archive to be
published by Karel Van Lerberghe, which
is contemporaneous with the present text
(see below). The regular spelling, Íà.tam,
appears in l. 86.
11. The Íu of MS C’s ÍurÍi is poorly executed;
a comparable form occurs in l. 36: e-de-Íuma.
21. For this year-name see Pientka 1998: 67.
23. Ninkarnunna was a deity of Ninurta’s
household already in the Old Babylonian
god lists and duly attends his master in
Angim 180 and 189 (see generally Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2000, Richter
1999a: 61–62, 65). While his cult at Nippur is not yet attested in Old Babylonian
documents dating to the period before the
crises of the reign of Samsuiluna (Renger
1967), the Middle Babylonian metrological text knows of his shrine or temple, é
d
nin.kar.nun.na (Bernhardt and Kramer
1975: 98–99 rev. 26). According to a stilllater text, the Nippur Compendium,
Ninkarnunna had a presence also at Nippur in the “outer Court of the Scepter,”
which was probably part of Ninurta’s temple E-ÍumeÍa (George 1992: 158–59 v 5,
450).
31. Evidence for the year-name is collected by
Pientka 1998: 94–95.
40. For this year-name and its variants see
Pientka 1998: 123–25.
41. The title abi ‰⁄bim, lit. “father of the personnel,” was borne by senior palace officials who represented the crown; see
further Stol 2004: 927–28.
78. The verb iÍÍi’a describes the action that
accompanied taking an oath on a divine
symbol. The clearest examples of the practice are provided by fiurpu III 14 and 17:
ma-mit giÍmarri(mar) // dn›ri(izi.gar) na-Íu-ú
u n‹Í(mu) ili(dingir) zak⁄ri(mu) “oath tak-
136
Babylonian Literary Texts
en by lifting the spade-symbol, var. lamp,
and swearing by the god.” The spade-symbol was Marduk’s, the lamp was Nuska’s.
81. The term di.til.la = ditillûm harks back to
Ur III usage.
96. This is a fuller form of the year-name Samsuditana 5, as booked in Pientka 1998: 131.
COMMENTARY
The Historical and Geographical Context
The historical and geographical contexts of this
document are in the process of emerging, as
scholars begin to grapple with the archives from
D›r-AbieÍuÓ. As noted above, one of these
archives is represented in the Schøyen Collection under the number MS 3218, which I have
had the good fortune to study by courtesy of its
owner. The archive comprises twenty-four tablets, including letters between high-ranking
officials and archival documents dated to the
reign of AbieÍuÓ. Several letters mention Nippur; one refers to its protection by a military
force (3218/8). Among the correspondents are
the “city elders of Nippur” (3218/16: 3: Íi-bu-ut
a-li Ía nibruki) and the Íandabakkum officials
(3218/14: 3: pisan.dub.bameÍ); the greetings formula in both invoke the gods of Nippur. The
documents include an extispicy report relating
to enquiries about the safety of troops stationed
in D›r-AbieÍuÓ and at a dam on the Tigris
(3218/6), ration lists for troops stationed in the
military garrisons (birtum) of Nippur and D›rAbieÍuÓ (3218/1), disbursements to military
personnel stationed at D›r-AbieÍuÓ (3218/7
and 12), and an account of foodstuffs given to a
refugee who had fled there from the Sealand
(3218/13).
Daniel Arnaud has summarized an unpublished archive of the same date in which D›rAbieÍuÓ clearly figures as a military settlement,
populated by mercenaries of very varied origin
and functioning as the “fortress of Nippur”
(Arnaud 2007: 41–44). It is unclear at the time of
writing whether Arnaud’s archive and MS 3218
are the same batch of tablets. However that may
be, what is surprising about these tablets is less
the glimpse they give us of life in a garrison
town on the frontier than the insight that Nippur was still, to some extent, a functioning city,
populated by its traditional functionaries and
worth defending by the Babylonian army. This
insight is in stark contrast to the current historical consensus. It is well known that documents
from Nippur ceased to be dated to kings of
Babylon late in the reign of Samsuiluna,
Ammiditana’s grandfather, and tailed off completely during the city’s occupation by Il‹mailum of the Sealand, who was a contemporary of
Samsuiluna and his son AbieÍuÓ. The extant
documents indicate that commercial activity at
Nippur dropped off very sharply in the last third
of the eighteenth century, and this has suggested
to many at least a partial abandonment of the
city, if not a complete depopulation (e.g. Stone
1977). Study of pottery from Nippur reveals a
discontinuity in material culture between the
Old Babylonian and Kassite-period occupation
levels (Gasche 1989: 124–26, 137). Other
archaeological evidence from Nippur has been
interpreted to demonstrate that, as water ran
out, much of the city was deserted; dunes of
sand and clay particles marched across the city,
including the area around Enlil’s sanctuary
(Armstrong and Brandt 1994). The archaeological evidence is not of a nature that allows more
than a very rough dating of this period of rupture in the city’s life, but it was attractive to date
its onset to the crises of Samsuiluna’s reign. That
turns out to have been much too early.
The archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ offer vital
new evidence for the history of Nippur in the
late Old Babylonian period. Those summarized
above show the survival of the city into the
reign of Samsuiluna’s successor, AbieÍuÓ.
Another archive, now in Cornell, allows a
rough reconstruction of Nippur’s history in the
period between AbieÍuÓ and Samsuditana. For
knowledge of this archive I am indebted to
Karel Van Lerberghe, who very kindly gave me
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
a draft of his cuneiform copies and text editions,
as well as a prepublication draft of the paper he
and Gabriella Voet gave at the Münster Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in 2006
(Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). This
archive contains eighty-nine administrative and
legal documents dated from year 20 of AbieÍuÓ
(1690 BC in the conventional chronology) to
year 13 of Samsuditana (1613 BC), with a majority of tablets deriving from the end of this period. It is thus contemporaneous with the present
document. Among the administrative documents is a dossier of receipts recording deliveries
of sheep for sacrificial offerings (udu Íu.gi.na),
described as a-na kurummat(Íuk) den-líl dnin-líl
d
nin-urta dnuska ù èÍ.èÍÓá Ía nibruki “for the food
offerings of Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta, Nuska and
the eÍͤÍum-festivals of Nippur” (Van Lerberghe
2008: 128, Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). The deliveries were accepted by the n¤Íakkum-priests and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and
Ninurta, i.e. personnel of the temples of Nippur. The most revealing detail for the history of
the archive is the fact that the two earliest
records in the sheep dossier state that the animals were delivered to Nippur (Ammi‰aduqa 8
= 1639 BC, 9 = 1638 BC). In the next record,
dated maybe a decade later (Ammi‰aduqa 17b),
and in all subsequent records (down to Samsuditana 5 = 1621 BC), the sheep were delivered to
the same personnel, but at D›r-AbieÍuÓ.
The change in location for the delivery of
the sacrificial sheep suggests that the cults of the
gods of Nippur, or at the very least, the administrative bureaux that operated them, moved
from Nippur to D›r-AbieÍuÓ some time in the
decade between 1638 and 1628 BC. A seal
inscription from Van Lerberghe’s archive suggests that the cult-center of Nippur had fallen
into disrepair at this time. The seal reads dnanna.me.Ía4 ka-ri-ib dmar›duk(amar.utu) ud-du-uÍ
é.kur ù nippuru(nibru)ki li-mu-ur “May NannameÍa, who renders homage to Marduk, (live to)
see the renovation of Ekur and Nippur” (Van
Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). The seal’s
impression appears on a tablet written by
Nanna-meÍa, scribe, in Ammi‰aduqa 15 (1632
BC). If the seal expresses a genuine sentiment,
and I cannot imagine why it should not, the
137
moment of Nippur’s desertion is narrowed to
the years between 1638, when sheep were
delivered to Enlil’s sanctuary there, and 1632,
when the seal is first attested.
The document published here also reports a
change in geographical location. In Ammiditana 16 (1668 BC) Gimil-Marduk tried to sacrifice a lamb in Nippur but was ejected from the
temple. In Ammi‰aduqa 2 (1645 BC) he petitioned Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, again in Nippur. But in
Ammi‰aduqa 17b (1629 BC or soon thereafter)
Gimil-Marduk petitioned Sîn-iq‹Íam in D›rAbieÍuÓ, and Sîn-iq‹Íam ordered the matter
examined by the “assembly of Nippur.” Finally,
in Samsuditana 5 (1621 BC), Aw‹l-Nabi’um saw
justice done to Gimil-Marduk in an outcome
described as a “command of the assembly of
Nippur.” It is not made explicit where the
assembly of Nippur met on these two occasions,
in Nippur or in D›r-AbieÍuÓ.
The disruption of life in Nippur in the latter
part of Samsuiluna’s reign came soon after the
depopulation of cities further south, following a
war that seems to have led to a large-scale failure
in the supply of water. This catastrophe had
already led people from Uruk and Larsa to emigrate north to KiÍ, Babylon, and Sippar, where
southern scribes, scholars, and priests were soon
in evidence, and their colleagues from Nippur
followed them, as Rosel Pientka has shown
(1998: 179–96). Intellectuals such as Taq‹Í-Gula
of Nippur made new careers for themselves at
the royal court at Babylon (Charpin 1999–2000:
324). When the later kings of the first dynasty of
Babylon wished to lavish patronage on the gods
of Nippur, they did it at E-nam-tila, Enlil’s
temple in Babylon (George 1992: 325–26;
1993a: 30–31 no. 849; Pientka 1998: 191). The
removal of major Nippurian cults to the capital
was surely the occasion of Samsuiluna’s restoration of Ninurta’s weapon Udbanuilla (about
which more below), which was recorded in the
name of his thirty-eighth year, 1712 BC (cf.
Charpin 2004: 361). But this evidence is no
longer the whole evidence.
Between them, the archives from D›rAbieÍuÓ surveyed in the preceding paragraphs
demonstrate that whatever disruption occurred
at Nippur during the reign of Samsuiluna, it did
138
Babylonian Literary Texts
not lead, as previously thought, to the complete
collapse of the city’s life and institutions. Nippur remained a city worth defending and with
a functioning cult, through the reigns of
AbieÍuÓ and Ammiditana and into the reign of
Ammi‰aduqa. To the evidence from D›rAbieÍuÓ can be added documents from elsewhere in Babylonia that refer to two separate
individuals from Nippur during the reigns of
Ammiditana and Ammi‰aduqa (Pientka 1998:
194). In addition, the solitary date-list of
Ammi‰aduqa found at Nippur (TMH NF V 77)
need not now be dismissed as a Middle Babylonian copy, but can be rehabilitated as evidence
that this king controlled Nippur and that scribal
activity occurred in the city in his reign (Frayne
1990: 425; cf. Charpin 2004: 368).
Van Lerberghe’s archive vouches for the
removal to D›r-AbieÍuÓ of the administration
of the cults of Nippur not long before 1629 BC.
The same picture is painted by the present document. It then seems very probable that the
final surrender of the city of Nippur occurred in
the latter part of Ammi‰aduqa’s reign, more
than one hundred years after the crises of Samsuiluna’s reign. There is no suggestion that this
was a surrender to a human enemy. Rather,
blame lay with the encroachment by sand dunes
observed archaeologically.
1
The translation of giÍ.gi4.gi4 as a “barrage” depends upon three pieces of evidence: (a) the
OB forerunner to Urra VIII–IX 171–74,
which groups gi zi.DU, gi giÍ.kéÍ.da, gi
kun.zi.da, gi giÍ.gi4.gi4, (b) the lexical entry
Emesal Voc. III 59: mu.[gi4.gi4] = giÍ.gi4.gi4 =
sa-Ói-ru, var. sa-ki-rum, and (c) a passage in an
address of Sîn-iddinam of Larsa to a statue of
his father, N›r-Adad. In (a) “all these terms
are translatable by Akk. miÓru ‘weir’” (Civil
1994: 129). In (b) both s⁄Óirum “turner” and
s⁄kirum “dammer” are words from the technical vocabulary of damming. The latter’s derivation from sek¤rum “to dam” needs no
further comment. For the former see, at the
suggestion of CAD S 60, the entries Nabn‹tu
O 321–22: ae.nigín, ae.nigin = [sa-Ói-ru]; there
Where, then, was D›r-AbieÍuÓ? Thanks to
the archives awaiting publication, the approximate location of this place is becoming clear.
D›r-AbieÍuÓ was hitherto known from two
published sources, a late Old Babylonian letter
and a year-name of AbieÍuÓ. The letter, CT 52
118 (ed. Kraus 1977: 96–99 no. 118), is addressed by a son to his father and begins with a
greeting that invokes Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta, and
Nuska, the chief deities of Nippur (Pientka
1998: 193–94). A boat-journey to d›r(bàd)-a-bie-Íu-uÓki is mentioned (l. 26), from which we
can perhaps infer that D›r-AbieÍuÓ was easily
reached by river or canal from Nippur.
AbieÍuÓ’s year-name “m” commemorates
the building of D›r-AbieÍuÓ: mu a-bi-e-Íu-uÓ
lugal.e bàd-a-bi-e-Íu-uÓ.a.ke4 ugu giÍ.gi4.gi4.(a)
íd
idigna.ka.ta bí.in.dù.a “Year King AbieÍuÓ
built D›r-AbieÍuÓ above the giÍ.gi4.gi4.a of the
Tigris” (Pientka 1998: 32–33). The sign-group
giÍ.gi4.gi4.a was until recently misread as ká.gal
(Ungnad 1938: 186 no. 195, Goetze 1951: 102),
an error put right by Rosel Pientka (see also
Horsnell 1999 II 262–63 n. 103–4). Pientka
understood giÍ.gi4.gi4 to mean reed-thicket,
comparing it to giÍ.gi “reedbed” (Pientka 1998:
33 n. 62); Horsnell also considered gá.gi4.gi4
(“nad‹tu-cloister”). However, good evidence
reveals that, in connection with a river,
giÍ.gi4.gi4.(a) means “barrage.”1 This barrage is
the phrase a—nigín means “to hold back water, to dam its flow,” as explained in A I/2 135
and 141: ni-gìnnigin = ka-lu-ú Íá mê(a)meÍ, se-kerum Íá mê(a)meÍ.
Evidence (c), Sîn-iddinam’s text, reports
that before N›r-Adad came to power an insurrection occurred and its leader took control of the land around Larsa. In detail it reads
(VAT 8515: 55–60, copy van Dijk 1965: 2, cf.
p. 6): íd.didli.[bi] giÍ Óa.b[a.ni.g]i4.[g]i4 ki ka
ba.‚an.x xŸ bàd.didli Óa.ba.‚ni.dùŸ érin en.nu.
gá {en.nu.gá} Óa.ba.gar.gar “he dammed its
watercourses, built forts at the points where
he [blocked off] (their) inlets and stationed
troops there to guard them.” The result was
first the failure of Larsa’s harvest, then famine
and civil chaos. When N›r-Adad came to
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
139
surely the dam that AbieÍuÓ constructed on the
Tigris, which is well known from his own yearname (“o”), from an extispicy report, MS 3218/
6 (George forthcoming), and from later sources,
a chronicle and an oracle enquiry (Lambert
2007: 54–57 ll. 22–47, 150).
A third attestation of the toponym occurs in
an unpublished late Old Babylonian document
from °aradum, a military garrison at Khirbet
ed-Diniye, on the Euphrates near Haditha; it
mentions the serving of ilkum-duty in D›rAbieÍuÓ (Joannes et al. 1983: 142, Pientka 1998:
220). Presumably the ilkum-duty was service in
the army, for tablets of the archive MS 3218 and
Arnaud’s and Van Lerberghe’s archives reveal
that D›r-AbieÍuÓ was a place where troops
were stationed.
The topography gains a detail from the
present text (l. 42), which refers to D›r-AbieÍuÓ
Ía zibbat íd°ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ “D›r-AbieÍuÓ
at the outflow of the canal °ammurapi-(provides)-the People’s Prosperity.” The same
long-winded phrase occurs in the extispicy
report, MS 3218/6, and repeatedly in the
unpublished archives.1 Evidently it was necessary to distinguish this D›r-AbieÍuÓ from
another place of the same name. The digging of
the waterway °ammurapi-(provides)-the People’s Prosperity was commemorated in °ammurapi’s thirty-third year-name and in a stone
foundation tablet that came from D›r-Sînmuballiˇ, the fort he built at its intake (ed.
Frayne 1990: 340–42). According to the yearname, the canal provided water for Nippur,
Eridu, Ur, Larsa, Uruk, and Isin, i.e. all the
major urban centers of Sumer. For this reason
Douglas Frayne asserted that íd°ammurapinuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ was none other than the Euphrates
itself. This is no longer tenable. The new detail
makes it clear that the canal of this name ended
at D›r-AbieÍuÓ, where it flowed into the
Tigris. It could not then have been the Euphrates itself but was more probably a waterway
that split off from the Euphrates and flowed
southeast across the alluvium, thus connecting
two branches of the country’s main rivers.
The strategic importance of °ammurapi’s
waterway is made clear by the location of forts
at both ends, D›r-Sîn-muballiˇ at its intake and
D›r-AbieÍuÓ at its outflow. °ammurapi’s
claim in his year-name that his canal brought
water to the southern cities, like his claim in the
foundation tablet that it provided water for
Sumer and Akkad, is hyperbole. His claims are
not completely without foundation, however,
for it is now known that in antiquity a branch of
the Tigris occupied a channel formerly identified as the easternmost course of the Euphrates
(Heimpel 1990, Steinkeller 2001). Thus it
flowed southeast into Sumer, past MaÍkanÍ⁄pir, Adab, Karkar, and Zabalam. Much of
southern Babylonia used its water, either directly or via the Iturungal and other canals that
branched off from its right bank (Fig. 1).
power he chased the enemy from Larsa and
undid his work (ll. 128–38, copy van Dijk
1965: 3, cf. pp. 7–8): íd.didli giÍ bí.in.g[i4.gi4].a
ka ‚ba.anŸ.[x].x bàd.didli b[a. dù].‚aŸ giÍtukul.ta
Óé.‚bíŸ.in.dab5.dab5 [u]gnim.bi Óé.b[í.i]b.gaz.
gaz bàd.bi Ó[é.bí.i]b.gul.gul íd.didli giÍ ka
in.gi4.a.ta [gál] Óé.em.mi.in.‚tag4Ÿ.tag4 “He
took by force of arms the watercourses that
had been dammed and their inlets [blocked
off,] and the forts that had been built (there).
He slaughtered those troops, destroyed those
fortifications, and opened up the watercourses
from (the points where) their inlets had been
dammed” (emending giÍ ka in l. 137 to ka giÍ).
Note that the rebels’ strategy was to build
dams and defend them with military positions.
This was much the same as AbieÍuÓ’s on the
Tigris, and no doubt he wished his barrage to
inflict similarly dire consequences on the
Sealand.
Where I read zibbat, written kun and kunÓá,
Van Lerberghe reads gú.(Ói.a) “on the banks”
(2008: 129), and we have not been able to
agree on this point. In every case I have seen,
at first hand, in photograph or copy, the contentious sign is kun, usually so cursive it resembles máÍ = kun8, but not gú. Sum. kun =
Akk. zibbatum is the technical term for the
mouth of a river or canal (e.g. Vallat 1987).
1
140
Babylonian Literary Texts
FIG. 1.
Central Babylonia in the Old Babylonian period, showing the eastern branch of
the Euphrates and the western branch of the Tigris flowing parallel, and the putative locations of D›r-AbieÍuÓ and the °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ canal (H-n-i).
Adapted from Adams 1981: 166 fig. 33; on the location of Karkar at Tell Jidr (site
004) see Steinkeller 2001: 72.
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
An unpublished document reports the
return of chariotry from Babylon to D›rAbieÍuÓ, a journey of five days’ duration, which
led Arnaud to site the latter in Nippur’s immediate vicinity, to the south (2007: 42). The new
understanding of the western course of the
Tigris and the knowledge that D›r-AbieÍuÓ
was located at the junction of the Tigris with
°ammurapi’s great southern canal, not too far
from Nippur, makes the town’s rough location
clearer. It was most probably situated not far
from the nearest approach of the Tigris to Nippur, about twelve kilometers east-northeast of
the city, well downstream of MaÍkan-Í⁄pir and
some way upstream of Adab. Robert Adams’
archaeological survey of this stretch of ancient
river-bed, conducted in 1968–75, revealed Old
Babylonian settlement at several sites (Adams
1981: 157 fig. 28, 166 fig. 33). The cluster of
three sites that he numbered 1054–56 is promising, for it occupies a position on the right bank
almost due east of Nippur, not far from the outflow of ancient canals that once brought water
from the west; one of them could be °ammurapi’s waterway. Site 1054 displayed evidence of
occupation extending through the middle centuries of the second millennium (“Larsa–Old
Babylonian–Cassite,” Adams 1981: 271), thus
encompassing the history of D›r-AbieÍuÓ.
Thirteen kilometers further down the ancient
river-bed toward Adab is the much bigger site
1188, which Adams found to have been an
“important town, recently and extensively
looted” (1981: 276). The damaged state of the
site later gave it a nickname, Umm al-Hafriyat
“Mother of Excavations” (Biggs 1989). Adams
found no signs of post-Larsa period occupation
at site 1188, but excavations in 1977 noted “evidence of occupation from the Uruk period (ca.
3500 b.c.), Ur III to Old Babylonian (2200–
1800 b.c.), Kassite (ca. 1250 b.c.), and Seleucid
(ca. 300 b.c.)” periods (Gibson 1995–96). Douglas Frayne proposed that Umm al-Hafriyat is
ancient fiarr⁄kum (uru.sag.rig7ki), a place known
from Early Dynastic to Old Babylonian times
(Frayne 1992: 36), but in the light of more
recent evidence others suggest that in the Akkadian period it could have been MaÍkan-iliAkkade (Pomponio et al. 2006 II 16). Neither
141
name would preclude the settlement at Umm
al-Hafriyat being renamed D›r-AbieÍuÓ in the
seventeenth century, but at twenty-five kilometers’ distance from Nippur it is probably too
far away to be a serious candidate for the “fortress of Nippur.”
Wherever D›r-AbieÍuÓ’s exact location on
this stretch of river, its strategic function is obvious. It was fortified to defend Nippur and central Babylonia from the east and southeast,
especially against a waterborne invasion. The
specific threat was the territorial ambitions of
the kings of the first Sealand dynasty, whose
army had already briefly occupied Nippur
under their king Il‹ma-Anum in the late eighteenth century and was again engaged in offensive action against Babylon’s borders in AbieÍuÓ’s reign.
What happened to the cults of the gods of
Nippur after their removal to D›r-AbieÍuÓ?
D›r-AbieÍuÓ disappears from history during
the turmoil that overtook the reign of Samsuditana and brought an end to the Old Babylonian dynasty. Samsuditana’s continuing interest
in the town can be inferred from the fact that he
redug the waterway that led there, as reported
in an unpublished year-name preserved on a
tablet now in Yale (YBC 10859, see Beckman
2000: 216, ref. courtesy Frans van Koppen): mu
Samsuditana lugal-e íd °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍi
mu-ba-al-lá “Year King Samsuditana dug the
waterway °.” It is unclear whether this yearname is an alternative for one of this king’s early
year-names or one that should be placed in the
less well-known last years of his reign. Perhaps
the former. Since we know that the ends of
archives often coincided with political and
social upheavals, it may be that D›r-AbieÍuÓ
underwent a traumatic experience soon after
year 13 of Samsuditana, when Van Lerberghe’s
archive runs out.
The inclusion of the first Sealand dynasty in
the Babylonian king lists is an admission that its
kings must, at some time, have controlled a significant part of Babylonia. It can be speculated
that, as the Kassites came to power in Babylon
and the north, the Sealand kings again pushed
up the Tigris and, crushing any resistance at
D›r-AbieÍuÓ, took control of central and east-
142
Babylonian Literary Texts
ern Babylonia, i.e. what may be called the
Tigris corridor. A long power struggle ensued
between Kassite and Sealand forces, which led
eventually to a Kassite victory.
It may be that D›r-AbieÍuÓ did not quite
disappear from history. A late chronicle preserves a memory of the Kassite kings’ wars with
the Sealand. One crucial contribution to Kassite
success was Agum’s campaign against the
Sealand, in which urud›r(bàd)-dellil(50) ikÍud
(kur)ud é.galga.ùru.na b‹t(é) dellil(50) ú-Íal-pit “he
captured D›r-Enlil and desecrated E-galgauruna, the temple of Enlil in D›r-Enlil” (Grayson 1975: 156 rev. 17–18). There were several
settlements called D›r-Enlil, but the best candidate for the town sacked by Agum is the D›rEnlil that occurs in Middle Babylonian documents from Nippur in close geographical association with the Tigris (Nashef 1982: 90, citing
W. van Soldt). Perhaps D›r-Enlil was formerly
D›r-AbieÍuÓ, renamed by its Sealand conquerors and still in Agum’s time, in Nippur’s continuing desolation, a cult-center of the gods of
Nippur in exile.
The historical context of the present document is corroborated by the presence in it of
many individuals who are also known from Van
Lerberghe’s contemporaneous archive (see
above). The accompanying table shows that
twenty-two of the twenty-eight members of
the assembly before whom Gimil-Marduk was
finally vindicated, as listed in ll. 82–96, bear
names that appear in the archive, and that there
are sixteen cases in which names and titles coincide. Some of these sixteen cases are likely to
attest to the presence in the two sources of the
same individual. It is not surprising that none of
the four royal officials mentioned elsewhere in
the text, the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, the barbers
Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir and Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk, and the
minister Sîn-iq‹Íam, occurs in the archive, for as
senior courtiers they were probably residents of
Babylon. Among them only Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir the
gall⁄bum may be attested as an historical personage. A barber Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir is found in at least
five Late Old Babylonian documents, several
certainly from Sippar, dated variously from
Ammiditana 17 to a year of Samsuditana.1 This
is a period of more than forty years, so that more
than one individual is probably at issue. One of
them could well be the same person as the character encountered by Gimil-Marduk in Ammi‰aduqa 2, which would populate the document
with at least one more historical figure.
What is notable, however, is that neither
Gimil-Marduk nor his opponents, Lu-Inanna
and Apil-Sîn, appears in the archive, nor does
the leader of the assembly, Ibni-UraÍ, although
the present text maintains that all four held
prominent positions in the hierocracy of Nippur during the period in question. Their absence gives us pause. The presence of historical
truths and historical personages in a text that
tells a story does not necessarily mean that its
story is a true and unembellished account of
events that actually happened. To explore this
issue further, it is necessary to consider the historicity and fictionality of the genre to which
our text belongs, the model court documents.
Model Court Documents
The best-known examples of Old Babylonian
model court documents are those written in
Sumerian. The genre has been described briefly
by Samuel Greengus (1969–70: 43) and partly
populated by Martha Roth (1983: 279–82). The
edition promised by Stephen Lieberman (1992:
130) as part of what he called the Manual of
Legal Forms did not survive his untimely death,
but additions continue to be made to the corpus
(Hallo 2002, Klein and Sharlach 2007). Greengus noted that these Sumerian documents typically involve the puÓrum “assembly” of Nippur,
lack witnesses and date, and are sometimes
extant in multiple copies. Observing their dissimilarity to the Ur III court records (ditillas),
1
Two published attestations are Arnaud 1989
pl. 52 no. 149: 16 (Samsuditana), Van Lerberghe 1986 no. 3: 3 (no date), both cited in
Pientka 1998: 476 no. 65. Frans van Koppen
generously drew my attention to these further unpublished instances: BM 80339: 11
(Ammiditana 28), BM 78589: 5 (Ammiditana
36), BM 80911: 16 (Ammi‰aduqa 16, see Pientka 2006: 61 n. 50).
143
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
TABLE. The coincidence of persons from Text No. 17: 82–95 in the contemporaneous
archive from D›r-AbieÍuÓ now in Cornell University, cited by title and regnal date. Data
from the Cornell archive are presented by courtesy of Karel Van Lerberghe.
Line
Name
82 Ibni-Amurrum
83 Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir
84 Utu-mupadda
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
82
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
95
96
Title in No. 17
Title(s) in the
Cornell archive
Ammi‰aduqa
Íatammum of king
–
8.xii.4
Íatammum of king
–
8.xii.4
Íandabakkum of Enlil Íandabakkum of Enlil
Íandabakkum
Girini-isag
judge
judge
8.xii.4
judge of Nippur,
paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil 11.iii.13
Sîn-iddinam
Íatammum
Íatammum
2.iii.1?
Íatammum of
Enlil’s temple
8.xii.4
Utu-manÍum
sir⁄Íûm
sir⁄Íûm of Enlil
5.x.20
fiumum-libÍi
sir⁄Íûm
sir⁄Íûm of Enlil
17d.xi.22
Nabi-Enlil
sir⁄Íûm
father of sir⁄Íûm
Ellil-b¤l-il‹
paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil
paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta 17d.ii.6
Ur-Sadarnunna sir⁄Íûm of Enlil
sir⁄Íûm of Enlil
5.x.20, 17d.xi.12
Ur-ukkingalla
paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil
paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil
Iddin-Ninurta (A) Íandabakkum
Íandabakkum
8.xii.4
Iddin-Ninlil (BC) Íandabakkum
–
Utu-lu-ti
Íandabakkum
Íandabakkum
2.iii.1?, 8.xii.4
Iddin-Ninurta
n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
14.viii.6
Enlil-manÍum
n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
5.vi2.22–17d.xii.12
Ibbi-Enlil
n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
14.viii.6
Lu-UraÍ
n¤Íakkum
–
Ninurta-muÍallim n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
5.x.20, 8.vii.6
Nanna-meÍa
n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
10.v.2, ?.xii.7
n¤Íakkum of Enlil 17b.ix.14
Enlil-muballiˇ
n¤Íakkum
n¤Íakkum
15.ix.1
KA-Ninurta
n¤Íakkum
–
Ku-Ninimma
n¤Íakkum
–
Imgur-Ninurta
paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta –
Aw‹l-Sîn
paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta father of witness 17b.iii.26
Ninlil-mu[. . .] (A)[ . . . ]
–
Utul-IÍtar (B)
paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta abi ‰⁄bim
13.xii2.6, 14.xi.23
scribe
2.iii.1?
Tar‹bum
scribe
Íatammum
Samsuditana
2.v.12
3.ii.x
11.iii.3
3.ii
13.xi.25
10.v.2
2.v.12–4.ii.23
3.ii
11.i2.9
13.xi.25
10.vi.4
144
Babylonian Literary Texts
the presence of a distinctive personal name and
the archaeological evidence (i.e. palaeography?), he reckoned that the model court documents known to him were products of the IsinLarsa period.
Roth agreed that “the single unifying factor
in these records is the puÓrum of Nippur.” She
further noted, “the cases recorded were doubtless actual cases, which were adapted and incorporated into the law curriculum of the Nippur
eduba. It is not surprising to find that cases adjudicated by the local assembly might be used in
schools for didactic purposes, in order to teach
the student scribes the forms of a court record”
(Roth 1983: 282). Later she observed that the
archaeological context of at least one of the
sources for such model documents was dated to
Samsuiluna (Roth 1998: 175 n. 5).
Three of the model court documents identified by Roth relate sensational cases involving
murder, rape, and adultery. Among the others
are those that record less lurid cases in which,
for example, questions of inheritance and ownership are resolved. It may be added that some
of these examples of the genre record the settling of disputes involving, as in the present
case, office-holders of the temples of Nippur.
Thus the famous homicide case tries the murderers of Lu-Inanna, a n¤Íakkum-priest (Roth
1998: 176–77); another document resolves a
quarrel between prebendaries of Nippur (Roth
1983: 282 no. 2); and the model court case published by Hallo (2002) settles a family argument
over the prebendary benefits of a paÍ‹Íum-priesthood of Ninlil. The appearance of personnel
attached to the great temples of Nippur is not
surprising in court cases heard in the assembly of
Nippur. Writing of this assembly in Old Babylonian legal life Andrea Seri considers that it
“may have been an organ restricted mostly to
disputes involving people related to the temple”
(Seri 2005: 177).
Several of the Sumerian model court documents resonate strongly with the document
published here. These are the cases of quarrelling prebendaries (Roth 1983: 282 no. 2, Hallo
2002) and, especially, a case of disputed inheritance on a collective tablet (Roth 1983: 282 no.
5). This last, now published by Jakob Klein and
Tonia M. Sharlach (2007), also concerns prebends and, as we shall see, has many affinities
with the subject matter of MS 3209.
The present text differs from the Sumerian
model court documents most obviously in language. It is also much longer and terminates
with a list of officials and a date. It shares language with Nippur court documents from the
reign of Samsuiluna, e.g. BE VI/2 49, ibid. 58 =
UET V 2561 and PBS V 100. In length, content,
and style it most resembles PBS V 100, which
shares with MS 3209/1–3 a common format of
four columns. PBS V 100 is a court document
from Nippur, drawn up in year 26 of Samsuiluna, that also consists of a detailed narrative
largely achieved through the quotation of direct
speech; it has been studied by Erle Leichty
(1989) and Martha Roth (2001). As Roth points
out, this text does not record the outcome of a
lawsuit; it records the outcome of a court hearing whose purpose was to confirm the results of
an earlier legal process that had sought to establish the filiation of a posthumous son (Roth
2001: 260). The present text is likewise not, as
written, the record of a lawsuit between competing parties; it reports the result of a legal process that confirms Gimil-Marduk’s claim, a
process initiated by his petition to the vizier
Aw‹l-Nabi’um. As in PBS V 100, the outcome
is determined by the statements of witnesses.
Because it bears seal-impressions, PBS V
100 can be identified as an original court document, not a copy. But, when compared with
the Isin-Larsa period documents, it is clearly an
example of a new style of court record at Nippur, devoid of Sumerian language and writing,
a style that the present text also exhibits. Roth
noted that in PBS V 100 the Í›t têr¤tim play a
judicial role in the legal process alongside a
judge, and found the phrase unique in the Old
Babylonian period (Roth 2001: 265). The same
Í›t têr¤tim appear in the present document, play-
1
The tablet was erroneously identified as coming from Ur by H. H. Figulla, and inadvertently republished in UET V. The history of
publication is given by Hallo 1964: 95–96.
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
ing the same role, alongside both a judge and
others who held high office in Nippur. The
phrase brings up the rear of the generic list of
officials who comprise or preside over the
assembly, the “clerks (Íatammum) of the king,
the dean (Íandabakkum) of Enlil, the (other)
deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests
(of Ninlil and Ninurta) and the Í›t têr¤tim of
Nippur.” As a generic phrase it evidently covers
those office-holders present at the assembly but
not identified by specific job-titles in the body
of the text (e.g. the brewers, three of whom are
named in the appended list of officials). From
this it appears that the new style of court record
represented by PBS V 100 and MS 3209 accompanies an evolution in the terminology relating
to the judiciary of Nippur. The identification of
the present text as a model court document for
use in pedagogy enables us also to speculate
about the evolution of the genre. The Sumerian
model court documents that originated in the
Isin-Larsa period seem to have fallen into disuse
in the late Old Babylonian period, as teachers of
law at Nippur turned for models to more modern court documents of the kind represented by
PBS V 100.
Several features of the model court document published here have to be discussed
against the backdrop of the evolution of court
documents in the Old Babylonian period. In
the extant juridical documents the assembly
plays a prominent role at Nippur up to the reign
of °ammurapi, but then disappears from view,
being last mentioned in a retrospective passage
of PBS V 100 (Dombradi 1996: 243). The frequent mention of the assembly of Nippur in the
present text thus appears to be an anachronism
(ll. 19, 45, 47, 49, 54, 81). More striking still is
the rubric di.til.la (81), which was the usual
“Gerichtsvermerk” in Ur III times but was
superseded in the Old Babylonian period by
Sumerian di.dab5.ba and Akkadian d‹num
(Dombradi 1996: 158–60). It survived only in
the academic legal tradition, as reported by the
bilingual lexical entry di.til.la = fiU-ú (i.e. ditillû), di-i-nu ga-[am-ru] “completed judgment”
(Ana itt‹Íu VII i 28a–29) and by its presence in
one Sumerian model court document (Klein
and Sharlach 2007: 5 ii 31, 10 l. 37). Its appear-
145
ance in both arose from pedagogy rather than
contemporaneous practice.
Another apparent anachronism is GimilMarduk’s three-generation patronymy. Such a
patronymy is not found in regular Old Babylonian legal documents, where it is enough to
identify an individual by his father’s name only.
More complex patronymies were sometimes
cited in late Old Babylonian D›r-AbieÍuÓ, as
demonstrated by a legal document in Van Lerberghe’s archive that identifies a slavegirl’s vendor by father and grandfather (= two generations) and a witness by father and uncle
(CUNES 51-01-20), but there is so far no parallel for a three-generation patronymy. LuDumununna, the oldest figure in Gimil-Marduk’s patronymy, has a name that in the Old
Babylonian period seems to occur only at D›rAbieÍuÓ, in administrative lists from the reign of
Samsuditana in Van Lerberghe’s archive. It is
not genuine Sumerian but a back-translation
from Akkadian (= the common Aw‹l-Sîn).1
Sumerian aliases were characteristic of famed
scholars from the Old Babylonian period on
and became increasingly recherché. A bilingual
list of scribal ancestors is available in V R 44 ii–
iii (ed. Lambert 1957: 12–13). Lu-Dumununna
does not appear there, for the text is not completely preserved, but two first-millennium
texts know him as an ancestor of scribes of Nippur (see the textual note on l. 1). In this light
Gimil-Marduk’s patronymy can be taken as an
early example of what later became conventional for scribes of Nippur, the citation of an
illustrious ancestor bearing a Sumerianized
name. This scribal conceit and the legal anachronisms identified in the preceding paragraph
demonstrate that the text originated in an intellectual environment significantly influenced by
academic practices.
There is good evidence that refugees from
Larsa and Uruk took with them their religious
and social traditions, and court documents from
the reign of AbieÍuÓ show them attempting to
1
For ddumu.nun.na = Sîn in the Old Babylonian period and later see Sjöberg 1960: 142.
146
Babylonian Literary Texts
replicate their respective judicial practices in
their new domiciles (Jursa 1997; Wilcke 1997b).
It is evident from the archives awaiting publication that the legal traditions of Nippur lived on
among the refugee population at D›r-AbieÍuÓ.
It is not yet clear whether the removal of Nippur law to D›r-AbieÍuÓ explains the anachronisms observed above. It might be imagined
that the legal traditions of Nippur underwent a
reform led by academics, so that certain old
practices were revived (di.til.la, puÓrum) and
certain new conventions introduced (threegeneration patronymy). But there is an alternative that needs exploring. Could this model
court document spring not from legal reality
but from the academic imagination? It will be
shown in what follows that considerations of
structure, theme, and motif suggest that the story of Gimil-Marduk may be a fiction.
Fact or Fiction?
The one Sumerian model court case that uses
the archaic term di.til.la instead of di.dab5.ba is
the very one that has most affinities with the
present text. Klein and Sharlach give it the title
“Dispute over Inheritance Between a Man and
his Uncle,” a title that could equally well apply
to MS 3209 (Klein and Sharlach 2007: 9–13). In
it, a man called Sîn-m⁄gir petitions the king at
a location in the temple precinct of Nippur
(níg.érim.nu.dib, see below), stating that his
uncle, B¤l‹-ennam, has for ten years illegally
denied him (nam.gú—ak) his father’s legacy of
a share in a prebendary office, house, and land.
The king summons the assembly of Nippur and
the judges in UbÍu-ukkinna, where witnesses
state before the divine symbol Udbanuilla (ii 14)
that B¤l‹-ennam had done what Sîn-m⁄gir said
he had, and the assembly and judges then rule in
Sîn-m⁄gir’s favor and order the uncle to pay a
fine.
When read alongside each other, the court
documents about Sîn-m⁄gir and Gimil-Marduk
display considerable similarity in structure and
theme, and in setting and topic, even though
the one is written in Sumerian and the other in
Akkadian. Both can be envisaged as products of
the very same pedagogical exercise, in which a
teacher of law required his pupil to compose a
convincing and ostensibly authentic court document on the paradigmatic theme of the Uncle
who Stole his Nephew’s Inheritance. In this
regard it should be noted that improvised composition using a predetermined structure and
topic is not unexpected as a pedagogic method
in ancient Babylonian scribal education. Something similar is known to have been practiced in
Egypt, where “initial sentences, closing sentences and important keywords were explicitly
written down and learnt by heart, and following generations were left to ‘co-author’ their
own versions” (Alster and Oshima 2007: 7 n.
44). It can be imagined that, when an improvisation was as successful as the story of GimilMarduk, it quickly became adopted as a model
and itself entered the scribal tradition as a copy
book.
An exploration of the literary character of
the text adds to the suspicions raised by the
anachronisms cited in the previous section. The
literariness of model court cases has already
been touched on by previous commentators.
Following the lead of W. W. Hallo (1964),
Greengus characterized the Sumerian model
court cases as “literary legal decisions” (Greengus 1969–70: 43). Hallo later returned to the
question of genre and explained that such documents qualify as literary because they are preserved in multiple copies, grouped on collective
tablets, and formally distinct from actual juridical documents by the absence of witnesses and
date (Hallo 2002: 141–42). This is a generic
ascription arising not from any literary quality
in the texts’ language and style, which is simple,
functional, and unadorned, but from their
adoption into the canonical corpus of scribal
learning. More conventional literary texts predominate in that corpus, but it is perhaps a step
too far to maintain that membership of the corpus automatically bestows literary quality on
every text.
However, some of the Sumerian model
court cases do exhibit, at the minimum, one
characteristic typical of much literature: they
are narratives that impart compelling stories.
There is a reason for this. In drawing attention
to the narrative aspect of court records, Roth
has pointed out that law cases would have been
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
selected for teaching either because they were
typical of daily life or because they were atypical: “the more dramatical and lurid the situation, . . . the greater impression that the case—
and thus the lessons derived from the case—will
make and leave on the student” (Roth 2001:
254). It is no doubt the dramatic narrative of
cases involving murder, rape, and adultery that
imbues certain model court documents with a
minimal “literary quality,” as well as explaining
how these particular cases came first to the
attention of modern scholarship. Gimil-Marduk’s struggle for justice over five decades is not
so dramatic, but it is certainly a story of absorbing human interest.
The Sumerian model court cases are conventionally held to be taken from reality, but
this assertion has not, to my knowledge, been
properly tested and proved to be so. The most
recent publication of such documents takes a
different position. Without making a clear
statement rebutting the notion that model court
cases were drawn from life, Klein and Sharlach
demonstrate the close connection between
those they publish and the pedagogical tradition, especially forerunners of the legal handbooks Ana itt‹Íu and Urra I–II, and also observe
that their cases include “several fanciful or dramatic details, which are definitely not present in
actual legal documents” (2007: 2–3). In other
words, model court cases display a combination
of imagination and academic knowledge of the
law. This is precisely what we would expect if
the scenario suggested above is right, that Sumerian and Akkadian model court documents
about wicked uncles derive from pedagogical
exercises in which the student fleshes out a paradigmatic theme. The documents that populate
the genre need to be examined as a whole, and
the prosopography checked against genuine
archival records, but, from those that have
already been published, one already gets the
impression that the cases they describe are
archetypical, between them covering the most
exciting areas of Old Babylonian jurisprudence:
murder, illicit sexual relations, adultery, adoption, inheritance, division between heirs, etc.
These are concerns that arise also in Old Babylonian omen apodoses, and they were clearly
147
matters of social anxiety. As such they are obvious topics for fictional writing.
In Sumerian the cross-fertilization of the
genres of fiction and legal documents is represented by the sketch known as the Slave and the
Scoundrel, an Old Babylonian satirical composition that apes legal forms and no doubt also
stems from the pedagogical context of legal
instruction (Roth 1983). Two later examples of
this hybrid genre are extant: a Middle Assyrian
contract in which a harem slave adopts a monkey (Franke and Wilhelm 1985) and the NeoAssyrian land deed published as ADD 469 (ed.
Kwasman and Parpola 1991: 232–33 no. 288),
which is clearly a humorous parody (Scurlock
1993). The present composition, however, is
utterly serious and belongs in the same category
as the Sumerian model court documents—or, at
least, those that may also be suspected as fiction.
The telling of a story, whether for serious or
humorous purposes, is not the only literary
quality possessed by these texts, the present
example included. In the model court cases,
right triumphs over wrong, good over evil,
sometimes despite many tribulations that
impede that triumph. They are thus moralistic
texts, if not quite morality tales. Their combination of moralizing and simple language makes
them a genre doubly useful in pedagogy. The
same combination is also characteristic of a
perennial literary genre, folktales. In this respect
it is interesting to observe that the particular
model court case published here is populated by
some of the same stereotypes that inhabit folktale. The wicked uncle in the city connives to
cheat a naive but bold youth from the country
out of his inheritance.
The folklore motif of the wicked uncle who
robs his nephew of power and honor was widely current in the ancient Near East. It lies
behind the Middle Egyptian tale of Horus and
Seth, whose frame is remarkably similar to that
of Gimil-Marduk: the boy Horus claims from
Atum, the leader of the divine council, the
office of his dead father Osiris. A court comprising the divine council hears arguments as to
who should inherit the office: Horus or the
scheming Seth, who in the dominant form of
the story is Osiris’s older brother and Horus’s
148
Babylonian Literary Texts
uncle. There is a protracted struggle but eventually Atum finds in Horus’s favor and Seth
concedes. The same motif occurs in the Sumerian composition known as Enlil and Namzitarra, which mentions how Uncle (ÍeÍ ad.da)
EnmeÍarra took from his nephew Enlil the
power to determine destiny (Civil 1977). It was
thus well known to Old Babylonian scribal
apprentices educated in the Nippur curriculum.
Later the motif was elaborated into a familiar
pattern in the Babylonian folktale we call the
Poor Man of Nippur, which begins when a
naive wretch is cheated out of his rightful
expectations by a wicked mayor. The present
story develops differently but still along the lines
expected in a folktale. At first the uncle succeeds because the city authorities take his side,
but at length the wronged man’s persistence
pays off and, through the mediation of two high
officials of state, he finally triumphs and gains
what is rightfully his at the fourth attempt. The
sequence of triple failure followed by success is
another pattern attested in Mesopotamian folklore narrative, most prominently in the poem of
Anzû, where three gods refuse to fight Anzû
but a fourth accepts the challenge and defeats
him. The pattern falls under Axel Olrik’s Law
of Three (das Gesetz der Dreizahl), which structures so much of the world’s folk narrative
(Olrik 1965: 133–34, Vogelzang 1988: 178–79).
If read as a piece of literary creativity in
Akkadian, the Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
raises interesting comparisons not only with the
Poor Man of Nippur but also with the similarly
late tale of Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite (George
1993b). The stories of Gimil-Marduk and
Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t both had a pedagogic function:
the former was a model for students learning
legal terminology and practice; the latter was a
humorous aid in grappling with the complex
bilingual intellectual culture of post-Kassite
Babylonia. Both are in some way unreal: the
present text in its anachronistic combination of
old and new terminology and practice, the
humorous story in its premise that in Nippur
even women selling vegetables were well
enough educated to speak excellent Sumerian.
Both promote the innate superiority of Nippur—in the one case in parading the judicial
tradition of Nippur as exemplary, in the other
in jeering at the lack of learning displayed by a
senior doctor from Isin who does not understand a greengrocer from Nippur. And both are
populated by historically attested personalities—the witnesses in the model court document and the eponymous hero of the tale of
Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite (who appears in
the bilingual list of scribal ancestors V R 44 and
was thus historical, at least as far as the Babylonians were concerned). That Nippur and its
institutions are the stage for three very different
pieces of post-eighteenth-century literature—
model court case, satirical sketch, and folktale—
demonstrates the hold that this ancient city
retained on the Babylonian imagination during
the millennium after the catastrophes of Samsuiluna’s reign.
The anachronisms present in MS 3209,
large and small, its use of motifs and patterns
drawn from traditional storytelling, its structural
and thematic similarity to one of the Sumerian
model court documents, and its affinities with
Babylonian compositions of other genres are all
features that make a good case for supposing
that the three tablets published here may be not
copies of an historical case but copies of a fictional court document. The composition they
hold finds a place in the present volume not
only because it was part of a tradition of scribal
literature, but also for the sake of what it tells us
about literature itself.
Implications for Intellectual History
On the basis of the composition’s historical and
geographical setting, I would speculate that it
arose in the intellectual milieu of scholarly families from Nippur who had taken refuge in D›rAbieÍuÓ in the mid-seventeenth century. There
they kept their city’s scribal traditions alive
down to the end of the Old Babylonian period,
when this text was used as a pedagogical exercise in 1621. The tradition was vital, for the text
came to serve as a model and be copied by later
student scribes. Other tablets in the Schøyen
Collection bearing academic texts probably
derive from D›r-AbieÍuÓ. One, published here
as Text No. 16 (MS 3208), is a late Old Babylonian model letter that invokes the gods of
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
Nippur. The others are MS 3117 and 3118,
which are nearly duplicate copies of the compendium of lunar-eclipse omens as it was
known in the Old Babylonian period. One of
them, MS 3118, displays exactly the same handwriting as one of the copies of the present text
(MS 3209/3 = C) and must be the work of the
same individual. A picture begins to emerge of
a late Old Babylonian pedagogical tradition that
maintains a close connection to the intellectual
traditions of Nippur but displays a marked proclivity for writing in Akkadian.
Before the crises of the late eighteenth century literary creativity in Nippur overwhelmingly made use of Sumerian. In the fourteenth
or thirteenth century Nippur re-emerged as an
important center after a long period of depopulation. In this era traditional scribal education
employed a modified syllabus that included a
larger element of Akkadian literature (see further Veldhuis 2000). The late Old Babylonian
tablets from D›r-AbieÍuÓ are witnesses to the
evolution in the south of new, Akkadian-based
curricula, and present early evidence for the
emergence of literature in Akkadian as an important component of the scribal tradition. It
seems the south, recently dismissed as a cultural
desert post-Samsuiluna, was not so barren after
all.
Other evidence is emerging that suggests
the south was a vital conduit of knowledge after
the fall of Babylon. In his history of Sumerian
literature William Hallo asserted that “Sumerian scholars and scholarship apparently fled to
the Sealand” at the end of the Old Babylonian
period (Hallo 1975: 201) but, for want of contemporaneous evidence, the significance of the
first Sealand dynasty for the intellectual history
of ancient Mesopotamia has been largely unexplored. Here there are other new developments, in the form of a group of unpublished
Babylonian literary tablets, some of which are
dated to kings of the Sealand (e.g. George
2008). Further study may well show that these
Sealand tablets are evidence for the continuity
of the southern scribal tradition between the
seventeenth and thirteenth centuries.
In considering the role of the Sealand in
second-millennium intellectual history, further
149
light is shed by reassessing the tablet of recipes
for glaze ostensibly dated to the second year of
GulkiÍar, the sixth king of the Sealand dynasty,
who flourished in the early sixteenth century
(Gadd and Thompson 1936, Oppenheim 1970:
59–65). The text’s colophon attributes the recipes’ composition to Ile”i-bulluˇa-Marduk, son
of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk, a patronym that F. A. M.
Wiggermann (2008: 225–26 no. 4) has very
plausibly identified with the Íandabakku UÍÍurana-[...], the father of Arad-Ea and grandfather
of Uballissu-Marduk, as named on the latter’s
seal (224–25 no. 3). Arad-Ea was a well-known
scribal ancestor whom the same seal inscription
shows to have been a member of a prominent
family of scholars and prelates (Lambert 2005:
xiv). Since another of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk’s
grandsons emigrated to Assyria and became the
secretary of King AÍÍur-uballiˇ (1353–1318)
(Wiggermann 2008: 219–22 no. 1), the date of
the previous generation of this family of scholars, among whose numbers were Arad-Ea and
Ile”i-bulluˇa-Marduk, is fixed in the fourteenth
century.
The chronology of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk’s
family demonstrates that Oppenheim and,
before him, Landsberger, were right to dismiss
as fraudulent the glaze-recipe tablet’s date to
GulkiÍar’s reign. Now we see even more clearly
that the tablet’s colophon asserts the text’s
antiquity in two ways: (a) by attributing the text
to a fourteenth-century scholar, and (b) by
claiming a date of writing in the reign of a king
of an even earlier period. This anachronism tells
us two things. The first is that Babylonian scholars of the period when the tablet was written
had lost track of the historical context of second-millennium scribal ancestors, a fact that we
already knew from those texts that link the
names of venerable scholars with kings, e.g. the
text from Uruk that associates Sîn-l¤qi-unninni
with GilgameÍ. The second is more important
for the present discussion: the mention of
GulkiÍar can now be taken as explicit recognition by later Babylonian scholarship that the
Sealand kings, far from being cultural philistines, presided over a realm in which scholarship was active and the scribal traditions of
Babylonia were cherished and handed on.
150
Babylonian Literary Texts
Legal and Juridical Matters
The probable fictional nature of this composition compromises it as an authentic witness to
social and legal conditions in Old Babylonian
Nippur as they once had been, for we have to
beware of both anachronism and academic idealism. But given the continuity of legal traditions among Old Babylonian communities in
exile, observed among refugees from Uruk and
Larsa, and the conservative nature of academic
traditions, it is legitimate to consider GimilMarduk’s complaint as broadly indicative of
social practice and legal custom in late Old
Babylonian Nippur and D›r-AbieÍuÓ. Specialists will glean more from the text than is done
here. For the moment it is enough to comment
briefly on a few matters that stand out.
First, when Gimil-Marduk applies to the
city authorities but cannot get any response to
his claims of being deprived of his inheritance
and beaten, he turns to officials from the central
government: the barber Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, the
minister Sîn-iq‹Íam, and finally the vizier Aw‹lNabi’um. The important point here is that in
Babylonian society, when local officials failed to
provide satisfaction, an aggrieved individual
could petition authorities from outside the city,
typically the king or his ministers, and seek justice through their intervention.
A congregation of officials, “the clerks (Íatammum) of the king, the dean (Íandabakkum) of
Enlil, the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the
paÍ‹Íum-priests (of Ninlil and Ninurta) and the
office-holders of Nippur,” is repeatedly cited in
the text (6–8, 14–16, 65–66, 75–77). Under the
probable direction of the leader of the assembly,
Ibni-UraÍ, these officials act together as a judicial bench, by command of the visiting vizier
and in the presence of the barber Tikl⁄-anaMarduk (a royal official who probably represents the crown). Their importance in the procedure is demonstrated at the end, where those
who have not been named in the preceding text
are identified by name and title, in an order that
partly corresponds to the earlier, generic citing.
There they are joined by the judge Girini-isag,
who is no doubt present as a senior legal authority, and the scribe Tar‹bum, who is clerk of the
court. This group of officials came before the
vizier in the context of an “assembly of Nippur” (19), and their verdict is recorded as the
“word of the assembly” (81). City assemblies
were highly active in resolving legal disputes
but their exact composition remains uncertain
and no doubt differed from place to place and
perhaps also from case to case. Andrea Seri’s
recent analysis of the membership of Old Babylonian assemblies found that the “active participants in ‘the assembly’ included both royal and
community representatives” (Seri 2005: 171).
In the present instance we can assume that the
group of listed officials either itself constitutes
the assembly of Nippur or formally represents
the opinion of a larger body so named.
When Gimil-Marduk recounts the episode
of his first encounter with his uncle, his most
explicit complaint is that his great-uncle beat
him and expelled him from the temple. The
assault occurs when Gimil-Sîn tries to present a
lamb to the god Ninkarnunna. Gimil-Marduk
is careful to mention at the same time that his
great-uncle occupies a prebendary office formerly enjoyed by his grandfather, which, as later becomes clear, is Gimil-Marduk’s inheritance. It can be supposed that when the grandfather ¡ˇirum died, his son Utlatum was already
dead and his grandson and heir, Gimil-Marduk,
was too young to perform the duties associated
with the office of shareholder in the office of
paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil. Thus the grandfather’s
brother, Lu-Inanna, took on the duties for the
duration of Gimil-Marduk’s minority. Subsequently Lu-Inanna also died and his heir Apilil‹Íu followed him in office. With the duties of
office would have come a handsome income.
Gimil-Marduk’s mention of his greatuncle’s income from the prebend is not an
inconsequence. Two suppositions can be made:
(1) at the time of his first encounter with his
great-uncle Lu-Inanna Gimil-Marduk was old
enough to suppose that the office had become
his, and (2) the sacrificial ritual he tried to perform was his first attempt to discharge the duties
of that office. Gimil-Marduk was from out of
town, for he journeyed to Nippur to carry out
the ritual; perhaps he already lived at D›rAbieÍuÓ, where he later had his successful audi-
The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk
ence with the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um. The physical presence of the long-forgotten heir at the
ritual, especially, would explain the violent
reaction of the great-uncle: seeking to retain the
office and its income for himself, Lu-Inanna
naturally wished to have the young man disappear back to the country and not show his face
in Nippur again.
Gimil-Marduk makes it clear that the city
authorities knew of his great-uncle’s actions,
both on the first occasion (30) and on the second (39). This was important to his case, for he
needed witnesses to substantiate his story. That
the city did nothing suggests that the greatuncle occupied a position of considerable power and influence. As an acting shareholder in the
office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta, he may himself have sat in the assembly of Nippur. It took
the successive interventions of two very powerful ministers of the crown, Sîn-iq‹Íam and
Aw‹l-Nabi’um, to force the city’s assembly
finally to right the wrongs done to Gimil-Marduk. There is another factor in the change in
Gimil-Marduk’s fortunes: at the end Lu-Inanna
is no longer on the scene, and the oppressive
relative is Apil-il‹Íu. The transfer of the hereditary office from the former to the latter gave
Gimil-Marduk a further opportunity to attempt
a restitution and, this time, with the old man
gone, he was successful and the story could end
happily.
The text adds to our knowledge of Babylonian legal procedures, for it gives very explicit
information on how the Nippur judiciary was
expected to establish truth in court. The petitioner had made an oral deposition to a senior
official, in which he related the facts as he
understood them. As a consequence the official
convened the court and the facts were established by the rehearsal of witnesses’ statements
in the presence of the assembly. There is no
explicit indication that the petitioner repeated
his deposition at this point, though he may have
done so. Then the petitioner physically took
hold of a divine symbol and presented it to the
office-holders; presumably what he then said
was as a consequence bound by oath on the god
but, again, the text does not record his words.
The witnesses, however, are explicitly recorded
151
as having repeated in the presence of this symbol the evidence they had already given, no
doubt also bound by oath on this second occasion. There was a dual judicial process, then: the
preliminary rehearsal of the witnesses’ statements and the formal repetition before god.
In PBS V 100 the procedure was similar, but
there the oral deposition of the petitioners was
made directly to the court, which then deliberated (i 1–ii 8); thereafter the witnesses gave their
testimony on oath before the divine symbol,
which resolved the problem (ii 9–iv 11). The
procedure involved a transfer of judicial process
from the meeting place of the office-holders in
assembly to the place of oath-taking, for PBS V
100 and other court records from Nippur make
it quite clear that these processes took place in
separate locations. This is clearly seen in the
model court case recently published by Hallo,
where the initial procedure takes place pu-úÓru-um nibruki.ka “in the assembly of Nippur”
and the oath-taking and final resolution in ká
d
nin.urta.ka “in the gate of Ninurta” (Hallo
2002: 146–47 ll. 7 and 20). The present document does not make the change in location
explicit and perhaps envisages a slightly different practice, for the proceedings take place in
D›r-AbieÍuÓ. But it does reveal that the whole
court—the court officials, the petitioner, and
the witnesses—took part in both processes. The
dual nature of the process, before first the
assembly office-holders and then Ninurta’s
symbol, is neatly reflected in the present tablet
by the summary in l. 81: ditilla maÓar Ninurta
aw⁄t puÓri Ía Nippuru “final verdict in the presence of Ninurta, command of the assembly of
Nippur.”
More is known about the two locations in
the procedure. According to model court cases
and other pedagogical texts the location of Nippur’s assembly was the courtyard UbÍu-ukkinna
in Enlil’s temple, the Ekur (Lieberman 1992:
132–33; Klein and Sharlach 2007: 10 ll. 17, 19);
the same name is given to the assembly in a later
compendium of legal language (Ana itt‹Íu VI iii
31: ub.Íu.ukkin.na.ke4 = i-na pu-uÓ-ri). The
place of oath-taking was a gate of Ninurta,
where legal agreements were traditionally ratified in the presence of his weapon (Lieberman
152
Babylonian Literary Texts
1992: 133; Hallo 2002: 145; Klein and Sharlach
2007: 17 l. 27). According to PBS V 100, the
weapon’s name was Udbanuilla (i 24', ii 4, 9, iv
10: dud.ba.nu.íl.la, in Akkadian ›mu l⁄ p⁄dû
“Merciless Storm-Demon”) and the gate’s
name was Ka-du-ursangene “Gate, Mounds of
the Warriors” (ii 10, iv 1: ká.du6.ur.sag.e.ne).
Both of these occur also in the Sumerian model
court case most like MS 3209, as dud.ba.nu.
[íl.la] (Klein and Sharlach 2007: 5 ii 14, correct
p. 10 l. 20) and the gate níg.érim.nu.dib “It Lets
not Evil Pass” (ibid. 5 i 28, 9 l. 3); there the procedures are somewhat different, for the weapon
was in UbÍu-ukkinna when the witnesses gave
evidence and the gate was where the plaintiff
had earlier petitioned the king.
The divine weapon Udbanuilla is well documented in connection with Ninurta and Nippur in literary and legal sources.1 A variant of
the gate’s name occurs in a section of the later
source of legal language on Ninurta’s weapon,
as Ka-ursangeneke-ningerim-nudib “Gate of
the Warriors that Lets not Evil Pass” (Ana itt‹Íu
VI iii 40–41: ká ur.sag.e.ne.ke4 níg.érim nu.dib
= b⁄b qar-ra-di Ía rag-gu la i-ba-’u; Kraus 1951:
191; Roth 2001: 285). A further variant, [b⁄b
gi Í
] kirîm(kiri6) du6.ur.s[ag.e.ne] in an Old Babylonian juridical document (ARN 59 rev. 1), was
considered by F. R. Kraus to be the full form of
the gate’s name (1951: 159), and linked by him
and by Roth (2001: 285) to the Gate of the
Date-Grove in Ana itt‹Íu VI iii 32 (ká giÍkiri6 =
b⁄b ki-ri-i). To my mind this name is better
understood as the conflation of a vernacular
name, Gate of the Date-Grove (in Akkadian),
and a ceremonial name, Gate, Mound of the
Warriors (in Sumerian).
Kraus suggested that this gate was situated in
Ninurta’s own temple E-ÍumeÍa. This is a reasonable guess a priori, but the study of cultic
topography throws up two pieces of evidence
that suggest he was wrong. First, it is well
1
Renger 1967: 152; Cooper 1978: 124 on Angim 132; George 1992: 150 l. 20'; Richter
1999a: 64; Roth 2001: 285, but read CT 25 14
iv 18–19 with George 1992: 447.
known that attached to Enlil’s sanctuary was a
sacred date-grove called the Kiri-maÓ “Sublime
Garden” (see George 1993: 113 no. 649 (é).
giÍ
kiri6.maÓ); the fact that Ninurta’s gate bore
the vernacular name b⁄b kirîm could be because
it led there. More compelling is the comparative situation at E-sangil in Babylon, for which
many names of Nippur shrines were borrowed
and adapted in an attempt to make the new religious center a replica of the old, especially in
the location there of an UbÍu-ukkinna as the
gods’ place of assembly (George 1999: 83). In
the Grand Court of E-sangil there was a pair of
shrines (sukku), the right-hand one called
é.níg.érim.nu.dib “House that Lets not Evil
Pass,” where stood the divine judge, Mad⁄nu,
and the left-hand one called é.níg.érim.nu.si.sá
“House which Lets not Evil Flourish,” where
stood the pitiless Nergal (Tintir II 31'–32', ed.
George 1992: 54–55). Mad⁄nu and Nergal were
held to be two of the seven manifestations of
Ninurta (KAR 142 i 22–25); the former personified Ninurta’s role as judge, the latter his role as
warrior and huntsman. The fact that their
shrines are standing places (manz⁄zu), left and
right, makes it conceivable that they were
located either side of a monumental gateway,
and their location in kisal.maÓ “Grand Court”
suggests that this gateway was an entrance into
the court, perhaps its principal gate.
The parallels between the two gates of
judgment are self-evident, and the presence in
E-sangil of the two divine guardians explains
the first part of the name of Ninurta’s gate of
judgment at Nippur: “Gate, Mound of the
Warriors”: du6 “mound” is a common element
in shrine-names, and the warriors are the two
gods of retribution who stood there. If this
topographical nexus originated in Nippur, then
the gate of Ninurta of name similar to Mad⁄nu’s
shrine in the Grand Court was no doubt a gate
in the precinct of E-kur, perhaps Ninurta’s
point of ceremonial entry to the courtyard
UbÍu-ukkinna. There it would be a convenient
location for witnesses to state testimony under
oath and for Ninurta to ratify the judicial decisions of a court of assembly that met in UbÍuukkinna.
A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions
No. 18
4507
This is a single-column tablet that has suffered
damage to its top end but is otherwise fairly
well preserved. Its twenty-five surviving lines
are inscribed in a regular Old Babylonian hand
and divided into neat sections by double rulings. The tablet is included in this volume as a
rare Akkadian composition in the Old Babylonian academic legal tradition.
Pls. 61–62
ments in the present (§§2, 3 and the first part of
5). Others are formulated as protasis and apodosis (§4 and the latter part of §5). In this variation the present tablet resembles the great
collections of Old Babylonian laws gathered in
°ammurapi’s name and other similar compilations, where most laws are composed with a
protasis, but some are not. The date of this tablet obviously precludes it belonging in the
damaged section of °ammurapi’s code, which
was promulgated maybe a decade after he conquered Larsa and brought to an end the long
rule of R‹m-Sîn. However, as a set of legal prescriptions that served as models in scribal education it gives a glimpse of the academic
sources available to the compiler of that code.
The intelligible sections share a common
theme, being concerned with the alienation of
immovable property. §§2, 3 and 5 prescribe the
reversion to the original owner of houses,
fields, and prebends that had been transferred to
another party, evidently illegally. §4 upholds
the right to compensation, like for like, in the
case of sales of undeveloped land. §5 is introduced by calendrical phrases, which seem a
strange intrusion.
Content
The first and last sections (§§1 and 6) contain a
Sumerian date based on the thirtieth year-name
of King R‹m-Sîn of Larsa, which celebrated his
defeat of Larsa’s great rival, the state of Isin.
This year-name was used from R‹m-Sîn’s thirtieth year (1793 BC in the conventional chronology) to his sixtieth and last (1763 BC), which
was the thirty-first year after Isin’s fall (Sigrist
1990: 59–60). The place of the present date in
the sequence 1–31 is uncertain because the
number is damaged and written over an erasure; it was either twenty, twenty-one, thirty,
or thirty-one. The last section is unfinished,
showing that the scribe abandoned his work for
some reason. The repetition and unfinished
text both suggest that the tablet is a product of
scribal practice. The accurate writing of yearnames was an important skill that had to be
acquired by would-be scribes, especially those
who were to draw up legal documents, and the
date was thus itself an exercise in writing. Probably the date in question was chosen because it
was the very day that the tablet was written. If
so, we may presume that the tablet stems from
a year late in R‹m-Sîn’s reign, 1774 BC at the
earliest, and that its original provenance was
Larsa or a place under Larsa’s control.
Between the dates are sandwiched legal
text in the form of prescriptive sentences in
Akkadian. Three prescriptions are simple state-
Aspects of Language and Writing
The language and spelling of the text are routine. Lexicographers and historians of law will
be pleased to find in ll. 13 and 23 two further
attestations of uwwûm “to misrepresent” (ewûm
II/1), here signifying fraudulent acquisition (on
this verb, booked in AHw as wu”ûm, see
Finkelstein 1961: 94, Kraus 1979: 139–41,
Charpin 1988). Note an apocopated accusative
suffix: iqabbûÍ (17) instead of iqabbûÍu; and two
plene spellings of subordinative -u: i-Ía-mu-ú
(10) for iÍ⁄mu, ú-wi-Óu-ú (13) for uwwi’u. The
latter is otherwise spelled with a false gemina-
153
154
Babylonian Literary Texts
tion, ú-wi-iÓ-Óu (23). Geminated consonants are
not always written plene: i-qa-bu-uÍ (17), i-Ía-ak-
ka-an (18) for iÍÍakkan. Mimation is lacking in
one instance: du-ú-ri (21).
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
rev.
26
27
28
29
30
[iti.kin.dinanna ud.8.kam]
[Íanat ki.21? giÍtukul.maÓ]
[an den.líl den.ki.ga.ta]
[ì.si.inki uru nam.lugal.l]a
[ù á.dam.didli a.na me.a].bi
[sipa zi dri]-‚im-dsuenŸ in.dab.b[a]
[ugu ùg dagal].bi Íu nam.ti.la i.ni.g[ar.ra]
[mu nam.lugal.b]i du.rí.‚ÍèŸ bí.in.‚è.aŸ
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------b[‹tum(é) giÍkirûm(kiri6)] ‚eqel(a.Íà)Ÿ uÍallim(ú.sal) ù ‚paŸ-ar-‰um
Í[a a-Óu-u]m it-ti a-Ói-im i-Ía-mu-ú
ga-[am]-ra-am ú-ta-ar
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------b‹t[um(é)] ‚giÍŸkirûm(kiri6) eqlum(a.‚ÍàŸ) ù eqel(a.Íà) uÍallim(ú.sal)
[Í]a a-Óu-um ‚itŸ-ti a-Ói-im ú-wi-Óu-ú
‚úŸ-ta-ar
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Íum-ma a-wi-lum kiÍuppâm(‚ki.ÍubŸ.ba)
i-Ía-am-ma
a-na b‹tim(é) i-qa-bu-uÍ
kiÍuppûm(ki.Íub.‚baŸ) ‚kiŸ-ma kiÍuppêm(‚kiŸ.Íub.ba) i-Ía-ak-ka-an
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------vacat
iti.‚9? udŸ.5 ud.26.kam
eqel(a.‚ÍàŸ)el du-ú-ri
Ía a-Óu-um it-ti a-Ói-im
ú-wi-iÓ-Ó[u]
ú-ta-‚aŸ-a[r]
ù Íum-ma [ . . . ]
x x x[ . . .
ú-ta-‚aŸ-[ar]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚itiŸ.[kin.dina]nna ud.8.[kam]
Í[a?-na-at ki] 21? giÍtukul.ma[Ó]
x[ (x x)] remainder uninscribed
A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions
155
TRANSLATION
§1. [Month El›lu, eighth day, 2 year twenty-one(?) after, with the supreme
weapon 3 of An, Enlil and Enki, 6 the steadfast shepherd] R‹m-Sîn captured 4 [Isin,
the city of kingship 5 and its settlements, as many as there] were, 7 spared its [teeming
population] 8 and demonstrated for all time [the fame of his kingship.]
§2. 9 A [house, date plantation], riverside field or prebendary office 10 that [one
man] bought from another: 11 he must return (it) entire.
§3. 12 A house, date plantation, field or riverside field 13 that one man acquired
fraudulently from another: 14 he must return (it).
§4. 15 If a man 16 buys 15 a vacant plot and 17 they order (its reversion) to the (original) estate, 18 vacant plot shall be provided for vacant plot.
§5. 20 Nine months, five days, the 26th day. 21 A field within the city wall 22 that
one man 23 acquired fraudulently 22 from another: 24 he must return (it), 25 and if [ . .
. ] 26 . . . [ . . . :] 27 he must return (it).
§6. 28 Month El›lu, eighth day, 29 [year] twenty-one(?) after, [with] the supreme
weapon 30 . . . (exercise abandoned)
1
NOTES
2// 29. Because the phrase giÍtukul maÓ (l. 29)
occurs only in the year-names R‹m-Sîn
30–60, and ll. 1–8 are a witness to one of
those same year-names, the transliteration
assumes a repetition of the date, in which
ll. 2 and 29 are the same lines. The sign that
resembles gul in l. 29 is taken as a number
written over an erased giÍ; 20, 30 and 31 are
also possible readings. The opening word is
clearly not the usual Sumerian mu “year,”
for this is excluded by the trace that opens
l. 29, and I have opted for an Akkadian
spelling of this noun.
9–14. The explicitly nominative spelling pa-ar‰um (l. 9) indicates that the items listed in
prescriptions §§2–3 are formally in casus
pendens, though functionally the objects
of utâr.
15. The erased signs read i-Ía-am.
A Tablet of Riddles
No. 19
3949
MS 3949 is a small rounded tablet of irregular
shape, inscribed with eight lines of Old Babylonian cuneiform. The content is two riddles
that have in common their subjects’ lack of a
head. Riddles are a genre of folk literature that
is not well represented in the written legacy of
ancient Mesopotamia (Cavigneaux 2007). A
small corpus of Sumerian riddles survives
because it was copied out in Old Babylonian
schools (Civil 1987, 1988, Cavigneaux 1996:
15). Riddles in Akkadian are even rarer. The
Pl. 63
closest counterpart to the present tablet in language, period, and style is a difficult Old Babylonian school tablet of uncertain provenance
now in the Iraq Museum (TIM IX 53, see van
Dijk 1976: xi, Cavigneaux 2007). Other Babylonian riddles perhaps occur among the proverbial sayings collected on a Neo-Babylonian
tablet from the Sippar library (George and AlRawi 1998: 203–6). The present tablet is probably from southern Babylonia, witness the
spelling a-sú-ru-um in l. 3.
TRANSLITERATION
obv.
1
2
3
4
edge
5
rev.
6
7
8
qá-qá-da-am ú-la i-Íu
ú-ul-da-Íu ÍaÓûm(ÍaÓ)?
a-sú-ru-um mi-num! ma!-<Óa>-ar
pu-ti-im qá-ar-ni
i-Íu qá-qá-da-am
ú-la i-Íu mu-ut-ta-aÓli-lu-um mu-ma-‰i
i-ga-ra-tim
TRANSLATION
It has no head, (though) a pig(?) gave birth to it: 3 a drain.
3–6
What has horns (in) front(!) of (its) forehead, (though) it has no head?
“sneak-thief” that lays walls flat.
1–2
6–8
A
NOTES
2. Last sign: less likely the moon god, dsîn
(suen).
3. The common word asurrûm denotes a void
or drain under the floor that received waste
water and provided a haven for snakes,
mongooses, and worms. But in the present
context something else (a worm or insect?)
may be intended.
6–7. In this context a horned muttaÓlilum (lit.
“slinker”) is evidently no burglar but some
creeping thing whose nest undermines
mud-brick walls.
156
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