Ilimilku the Scribe · a new plain-English translation from the original language
. . . [. . .]
and . . . [. . .]
When she [was broken(?) . . .]
when she fell(?) . . . [A day,] [two days]
passed by, and the wo[mb-kind one,] [Anat,]
sought him — like the heart of a co[w]
for her calf, like the heart of a ewe
for her lamb: so the heart of An[at]
for Baal. She seized Mot
by the hem of his garment; she gripped [him]
by the edge of his cloak. She lifted her voice and [cri]-
ed: 'You, Mot! — give up my brother!'
And the son of the gods, Mot, answered: 'What
do you ask of me, O Virgin Anat?
I myself went walking and hunting — every
mountain to the heart of the earth, every hill
to the heart of the fields. My appetite lacked
the children of men — my appetite, the multitudes of
the earth. I came to the pleasant place, the earth's
pasture-land — the lovely fields of the Realm-of-Death's-Shore.
I myself came upon Mightiest Baal:
I made him ready like a lamb in my mouth;
like a kid in the crushing of my gullet he was carried off.
The Lamp of the gods, Shapshu, glowing hot,
the heavens hanging faint in the hand of the son of the gods, Mot.'
A day, two days passed — the days
turned to months. The womb-kind one, Anat, sought him —
like the heart of a cow for her calf, like the heart of
a ewe for her lamb: so the heart of
Anat for Baal. She seized
the son of the gods, Mot: with a sword
she split him; with a sieve she winnowed
him; with fire she burned him;
with millstones she ground him; in a field
she sowed him. His flesh, indeed, the birds
ate; his limbs, indeed, the spar-
rows consumed — flesh crying out to flesh.