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I speak of the one, the cherished son of Belet-ili.

Mother to the seven who are great.

Who in her womb had cradled Enlil’s seed.

I speak of the son, the revered one.

Champion of the primordial rage.

And I speak of another.

Who has by grace been abandoned.

And by misery and owe he’s been embraced.

Anzum, guardian of Ekur;

eager to posses the tablet of destinies.

Foundation of fate and future.

In wait he lies for when his claws embrace its baked clay.

“Ellilûtam itekim nadû parshû,

abum mâlikshunu shuharrur Ellil”

[translation from Akkadian: He took away the Ellil-power – abandoned were the rites. Their father, their counsellor – Ellil was paralyzed]

Ninurta; warrior, son of Ellil;

who in Duraki is to become the word,

who slew the bull man inside of the sea,

who the flames he with his heart dominates,

And all the malice he with his mind eradicates,

Ninurta, warrior!

Destroyer of the Gallû-demons,

conqueror of Ushum;

challenger of the soaring Anzum; …

…he who stands grand among his kin,

great among the eagles of the lion head,

Ningirsu, bolt of the hunt,

Anzum, keeper of the temple.

Destroyer of the Bison-beast,

challenger of Anzum;

Who is born of the wide earth and Apsu.

Anzum, primordial champion of the temple,

who’s name shakes the foundations of the world.

Yet the scribes have written of your downfall,

and for that our hearts bleed.

Ninurta, summon the seven winds;

shake the mountains where he lurks;

fill with terror his essence;

heed the word of Sharur;

pierce him with arrow and throw-stick.

Scatter his feathers,

and let the winds bring them as a sign of victory.

And your name shall be made great in the four corners of the world.