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2nd kirugu.

In his righteous destroyed city its lament is bitter. In his destroyed Urim its lament is bitter.

Its jicgijal.

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

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

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

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

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

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