Ludlul Bel Nemeqi - I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom

Ludlul bēl nēmeqi

I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom

Tablet I

I will praise the lord of wisdom, the attentive god, furious by night and gracious by day; Marduk, lord of wisdom, whose rage is a storm and whose breath is as pleasant as the morning breeze.

When he is angry, who can withstand him? His wrath is a flood. Yet his heart is merciful, and his mind turns again toward compassion. The heavens cannot bear the weight of his hands, yet his gentle hand saves the dying.

When Marduk is enraged, the graves open; when he looks with favor, the fallen rise. Without him, who can understand the will of the gods? What seems good to a human may be hateful before a god; what seems evil to the heart may be good before the divine powers.

Who has learned the counsel of the gods in heaven? Who has grasped the decision of the deep? Where has a mortal learned the way of a god?

I was watchful and prayerful, yet my prayer became an offence. My supplication did not reach the god. My reverence was treated as rebellion, and my submission as arrogance.

I sought the favorable day, but its signs were hostile. The diviner could not make the matter clear. The dream interpreter found no relief in my dreams. I questioned the exorcist, but he did not loosen the ban upon me.

I looked behind me: persecution. I looked before me: distress. As one who had not offered to his god, I was abandoned; as one who had not invoked his goddess, I was cast down.

Yet I had attended to prayer and supplication. Prayer had been my wisdom; sacrifice had been my rule. The day of honoring the gods was the desire of my heart. The day of the goddess’s procession was joy to me.

I instructed my household to honor the divine name. I taught my people reverence for the palace. I thought service to the king was like service to a god, and fear of the palace like fear of heaven.

But what seemed right to me was wrong before my god. What my heart despised was acceptable to him. Who can understand the mind of the gods in the depth of heaven? The plan of a god is like deep water—who can comprehend it?

Human understanding changes from morning to evening. Those who were alive at dawn are dead by night. In a moment they are troubled; in an instant they are crushed.

The gods made me reject what I had cherished. My companions spoke against me. My close friend became hostile. My attendant revealed my words, and my servant cursed me before the assembly.

The king’s face became dark toward me. Courtiers sharpened accusations; men of rank plotted evil. One said, “I will cause him to lose his life.” Another said, “I will make him leave his office.” A third said, “I will seize his position.”

They divided my possessions among people who had no claim. My city regarded me as an enemy; my land became savage and hostile. My brother became a stranger. My friend treated me as though I were dead.

My strength vanished. My dignity was stripped from me. Terror clothed me like a garment. Royal favor moved far away; protection fled from my side.

[Several lines damaged.]

I called to my god, but he did not show his face. I prayed to my goddess, but she did not raise her head. The diviner could not settle my case by divination, nor could the dream interpreter clarify my future.

The exorcist performed his rites, but he did not loosen my sickness. The lamentation priest recited, but my distress did not depart. The whole world was astonished at my condition.

When I walked in the street, eyes watched me. When I entered the palace, faces turned away. My city frowned at me; my land was hostile. My enemy heard and rejoiced; the woman who hated me announced the news with delight.

Yet I knew that the time of every human is determined. Until Marduk has mercy, who can restore life? Until his heart turns, who can stand?

[End of Tablet I damaged.]

Tablet II

My illness increased; the hand upon me became heavy. Sleep abandoned me at night, and fear pursued me by day. My body was seized as by a net.

A malignant demon struck my head. A cruel specter covered my face. The persecuting spirit gripped my neck, and the relentless one pressed upon my breast.

My flesh grew slack; my blood ebbed away. My bones trembled and my sinews were loosened. My limbs were bound, and my feet could no longer bear me.

A cough beat my chest; phlegm filled my throat. Fever burned me like fire. My eyes were clouded, my ears rang, and darkness covered my sight.

My tongue became swollen and my speech failed. Food was bitter to me, and drink had no sweetness. The path of breath was closed; my life was near its end.

I passed the night in my own filth like an ox; I wallowed in my excrement like a sheep. Those who washed me recoiled from my stench.

The exorcist was afraid of my symptoms. The diviner withdrew because of their severity. No physician understood my disease; no healer could set a limit to it.

The god did not come to my aid, nor did he take my hand. My goddess did not pity me, nor did she come near. The grave opened before me; they gathered my burial goods.

While I was still alive, they had already mourned me. My enemies heard of it and their faces brightened. Those who hated me said, “His god has abandoned him.”

My family sat in grief. The doorway was filled with mourners. My household groaned as if I had already crossed the river from which there is no return.

The day became a sigh; the night became lamentation. Month followed month; year approached year. My suffering lengthened, and the appointed term did not end.

I had become like one whom death had chosen. My face was hidden; my body wasted. I was no longer counted among the living.

I said, “My god has forgotten me; my goddess has forsaken me. The guardian spirit who walked beside me has departed. The protective genius has gone to another.”

Yet in the depth of night, when human speech was still, a dream came to me.

I saw a young man of extraordinary splendor, clothed in brightness. He stood over me and spoke words of life. His form was majestic, and his hands carried purification.

He said, “Marduk has sent me. I am Ur-nindin-lugga, the incantation priest of Babylon. I have come from the temple of Esagila to release you.”

He touched me and drew away the evil. He poured pure water over me and traced a life-giving sign upon my body. He entrusted me to the hands of my god.

I awoke, but the vision remained in my heart. Before I could speak, another dream came.

A woman of noble appearance entered. Her body shone; her garment was like flame. She said, “Do not fear. The one who has raised the dead has turned toward you.”

Again I dreamed. A man held a tablet in his hand. He said, “Your sufferings have been written to their end. Marduk has pronounced life for you.”

The visions were repeated; the messages agreed. Their words were one word: deliverance had been decreed.

[Several lines missing.]

At dawn my heart revived. Breath entered my nostrils. My eyes opened to the light, and my ears again received sound.

The one who had struck me began to heal me. The one who had cast me down took me by the hand. Marduk changed his wrath into compassion.

[End of Tablet II damaged.]

Tablet III

He sent a storm against the storm that oppressed me. He drove the evil wind from my body. He uprooted the headache like a plant and cast it away.

He made the malignant demon retreat. He drove the specter from my face. He tore away the net that bound my limbs and broke the fetter from my hands.

He opened the path of my breath. He cleared my throat and calmed my chest. He extinguished the fever that burned like fire.

He restored strength to my knees. He filled my veins again with blood. He made my wasted flesh grow firm.

He cleaned the filth from my body. He washed away my sores. He made my skin shine as though anointed with fine oil.

He caused me to sleep peacefully through the night. At dawn I rose like one delivered from a pit.

My mouth, which had been silent, praised him. My tongue, which had been bound, proclaimed his greatness. My lips, once closed, declared his mercy.

Those who had mourned me were astonished. My family changed lamentation into joy. The doorway that had heard wailing heard songs of thanksgiving.

My enemies saw and were confounded. Those who had rejoiced over me hid their faces. The one who had announced my death now announced my recovery.

Marduk restored what the hostile had taken. He returned my household to me. He gathered my scattered possessions and made my dependants return.

He made the king’s countenance shine toward me. He restored my office and renewed my honor. He silenced the accusations of the courtiers.

Those who had plotted my death bowed before me. Those who had seized my place gave it back. My city welcomed me; my land became peaceful.

The friend who had become hostile took my hand again. My brother who had become a stranger came near. My servants stood before me in obedience.

Who but Marduk can turn death into life? Who but his spouse can restore one who has been rejected?

His anger is terrible, but his mercy is deep. His punishment is heavy, but his pardon brings the dead back from the earth.

Without his command, no god loosens the bond. Without his word, no goddess can reverse the sentence.

I had said, “My god has rejected me,” but he had not abandoned me forever. I had said, “My goddess has forgotten me,” but she was preparing mercy.

The road of the divine will is hidden. The sign of salvation may stand where a human sees only ruin.

What human can judge the action of a god? Today he is angry; tomorrow he shows favor. In the evening he casts down; at dawn he raises up.

Marduk looked upon the depth of my distress. He heard the groaning no human could understand. He accepted the tears that had fallen without number.

He made my affliction into a proclamation of his power. He made my survival into a hymn for future generations.

[A long passage is damaged.]

I will tell the people what he did. I will cause the learned to hear it. I will make his mercy known in the assembly.

Let the one who suffers not cease to seek him. Let the one bound by sickness wait for his favorable word. The lord’s anger is not forever.

[End of Tablet III damaged.]

Tablet IV

I entered Babylon, the city of the great gods, with a heart made glad. I approached Esagila, the house of Marduk, the place where destinies are established.

I passed through the Gate of the Rising Sun, where the afflicted receive signs of life. I bowed at the gate through which the condemned are released.

I entered the courtyard where the proud are humbled and the humble are raised. I kissed the ground before the lord of wisdom.

I brought offerings according to my means: incense of sweet fragrance, grain, oil, and gifts of thanksgiving. I poured out clear water before him.

I praised Zarpanitu, the lady who gives life, who intercedes for the exhausted and leads the sufferer before the merciful lord.

I praised the divine son who carries the message of compassion. I honored the gods of Esagila, the guardians of the holy dwelling.

The people saw me and blessed Marduk. They said, “This is the man whose grave was prepared. The lord has brought him back from the mouth of death.”

The learned heard my story and pondered it. The elders repeated it in the assembly. The young received it as instruction.

I, Šubši-mešrê-Šakkan, who had been cast down, was raised. I who had been stripped was clothed. I who had been made silent was given a voice.

My god returned and stood at my side. My goddess turned again toward me. My protective spirit came near; my guardian genius resumed his place.

Marduk broke the weapon of the evil one. He scattered the host that surrounded me. He made the curse powerless and the omen favorable.

He turned the sentence of death into a decree of life. He changed mourning into festival and lamentation into praise.

Let every living person praise Marduk. Let the sufferer trust the lord whose counsel is hidden. Let the one near death call upon him.

His hand is heavy, yet it heals. His word terrifies, yet it restores. His wrath makes the earth tremble, yet his mercy gives breath to the dying.

He sees what no diviner sees. He knows what no scholar understands. The wisdom of the learned is ignorance before him.

Who can say, “I know the mind of Marduk”? Who can declare, “I have measured his heart”? His way is remote; his purpose is deep.

One whom he rejects, he may later embrace. One whom he makes poor, he may enrich. One whom he sends down to the grave, he may bring back to daylight.

Let my experience be recited in the temple. Let it be written upon a tablet. Let future generations hear how Marduk saves.

[Several lines damaged.]

May the one who reads this praise the lord of wisdom. May the scribe who preserves it speak the name of Marduk with reverence.

May the afflicted hear and take courage. May the sick hear and hope. May the one abandoned by friends know that the god’s mercy may still draw near.

[Colophon and final lines damaged.]

Tablet V

[The beginning of the tablet is damaged.]

The lord examined my guilt and found no offence equal to my suffering. He washed my mouth and made my prayer acceptable.

He released the ban that had enclosed me. He broke the spell, loosened the oath, and scattered the evil that clung to my body.

He purified me with water of life. He clothed me in a clean garment. He set a bright sign upon my forehead.

He caused me to stand again among the living. He restored my name before the people and my honor before the king.

I will not conceal his deed. I will proclaim it at the gate of Esagila. I will speak of it where the people gather.

Marduk is the lord who kills and makes alive, who wounds and heals, who abandons and again takes the hand.

His command reaches the heavens; his decision penetrates the underworld. No god changes what he has firmly decreed.

Yet when his heart is moved to mercy, no accusation can stand. He tears up the tablet of guilt and writes a decree of life.

Zarpanitu, compassionate lady, spoke for me. She brought my petition before him and turned his face toward my distress.

The divine court accepted my restoration. The gods who had hidden themselves returned. The protective powers gathered around me.

I crossed the river of affliction and reached the shore of life. I came out from darkness and saw the sun.

My years, which seemed finished, were renewed. My days, which had been counted for death, were extended.

Let Babylon rejoice in her lord. Let Esagila resound with thanksgiving. Let incense rise continually before Marduk.

Let the musicians take up the hymn. Let the lamentation priest change mourning into praise. Let the temple singers make his mercy known.

I will praise the lord of wisdom as long as I live. I will bless the god whose anger is fierce and whose compassion is beyond measure.

For the human mind cannot grasp the counsel of heaven, but the one who survives by divine mercy must not remain silent.

[The remaining lines are fragmentary.]

Praise to Marduk, lord of wisdom, who restored Šubši-mešrê-Šakkan from death to life.

[End of the surviving witness.]