When heaven on high had not been named[1]
and the ground below was not given a name,
primordial Apsû, who fathered them,
and the creative force[2] Tiamat, who gave birth to them all,
were mingling together their waters:
they had not yet bound meadows or lined the reedbeds.[3]
When none of the gods had been brought forth,
had not been given names and had not decreed destinies,
then were the gods created within them.
Lahmu and Lahamu were brought forth and called by name.
When they had grown big, grown tall,
Anshar and Kishar were created, greater than them.
They lengthened their days, expanded their years.
Anu, their firstborn, rivalled his fathers.[4]
Anshar made Anu, his child, like him,[5]
and Anu gave birth to his likeness in turn – Nudimmud.[6]
Nudimmud: he was the leader among his fathers,
vast of mind, perceptive, massive in strength,
much mightier than Anshar, who had fathered his father,
he had no rival among the gods his brothers.
They joined together, the brothers, the gods,[7]
and confused Tiamat as their clamour kept growing,
troubling Tiamat’s belly,[8]
and with their games spreading grief in Andurunna.[9]
Apsû did not still their noise,
and Tiamat was silent before them:
their doings disturbed her,
their ways were not pleasant, but …[10]
Then Apsû, who had fathered the great gods,
called Mummu, his minister, and said to him:
‘Mummu, minister who soothes my mood!
Come, let us take counsel with Tiamat.’
They went and sat down, facing Tiamat,
to confer about the gods their children.
Apsû worked his words,
saying loudly[11] to her, to Tiamat:
‘Their ways disturb me.
By day I have no rest, by night no sleep.
I will destroy their ways, disrupt them!
Let silence be settled, so that we may sleep.’
When Tiamat heard this,[12]
she was angry and screamed at her lover.
She screamed, disturbed, alone in her rage,
for he had cast evil upon her mind.[13]
‘What! Should we destroy what we ourselves created?
Disturbing as their ways may be, let us bear them with good grace.’
Mummu replied and gave counsel to Apsû,
and his Mummu’s counsel was that of a devious minister:
‘Destroy, my father, their confused way,
that by day you may rest, by night you may sleep.’
Apsû was pleased with him, his face lighted up,
because he had plotted evil against the gods his sons.
Mummu embraced his neck,
sitting on his lap and kissing him.
What they plotted in their assembly
was repeated to the gods their children:
the gods listened and panicked,[14]
then turned quiet[15] and sat in silence.
The supremely clever, wise, and skilled
Ea, who perceives all things, found out their scheme:
against it he fashioned a comprehensive plan, fixing it firmly,
and devised his supreme, sacred spell.
He recited it, granting him rest in the water:
sleep poured over him and he slumbered soundly.
He made Apsû slumber, sleep was poured over him,
while the councillor Mummu was put into a waking stupor.
He untied his sash, stripped off his crown,
took away his frightful aura[16] and put it on himself.
He bound Apsû and killed him,
he turned to Mummu and locked him up.[17]
He founded his home upon Apsû,
Mummu he seized, holding his leash.
After he had bound and slain his foes,
declaring triumph over his adversaries,
Ea rested calmly within his chamber,
and called it Apsû, ‘that makes known the shrines’.[18]
There he founded his sanctuary[19]:
Ea and his wife Damkina lived in splendour.
In the chapel of fates, the temple of plans,
the expert of experts, the sage of the gods, the Lord, was conceived.
Within Apsû, Marduk was created,
within sacred Apsû, Marduk was created.
His father Ea created him,
Damkina, his mother, delivered him.
He suckled at the breasts of goddesses
and the nurse who raised him infused him with dreadfulness:
his form flourished, the flick of his eyes flashed bright,
his growth was manly, he was mighty from the start.
Anu, who had created his father, saw him:
he exulted, lighting up, his heart full of joy.
He perfected him, so that his divinity became different:
he is truly eminent, supreme among them in every way.
His proportions cannot be known, they are intricate,
impossible to understand, difficult to look on.
Four are his eyes and four his ears,
fire[20] flares up when his lips flit.
His four ears grew great,[21]
and his eyes likewise discern everything.[22]
He stands tall among the gods, supreme in form,
his limbs are enormous, supreme from birth.[23]
Mari-utu, Mari-utu,
son of the Sun, Sun of the gods![24]
He was dressed in the frightful aura of ten gods, enveloped up high,[25]
and fifty dreads[26] were heaped upon him.
Anu created the four winds, giving birth to them
and handing them to him: ‘Let my son play!’[27]
He fashioned dust and let the tempest carry it,
creating waves[28] and troubling Tiamat.
Tiamat was troubled, day and night she tossed about,
the gods had no rest, they were burdened? by each wind.
Plotting evil in their minds,
they said to their mother Tiamat:
‘When they killed your lover Apsû,
you did not rally to his side but sat in silence.
Now he has created the four winds of dread:
your belly is troubled and we cannot sleep.[29]
He was not in your heart, you lover Apsû,
nor was Mummu, whom they bound: now you sit alone.
Since that day, you have been making trouble, tossing about,
and as for us, who cannot lie still – you do not love us.
Behold our burden, our eyes have shrivelled up!
Break this relentless yoke,[30] so that we may sleep.
Make war, avenge them!
Consign all that they planned to oblivion.’[31]
Tiamat listened, she found the speech good:
‘All that you advised, let us do it today.’
The gods assembled inside her,
driven to evil against the gods who created them.
They drew together,? rising at Tiamat’s side,
angry, plotting, not lying still by night or by day,
ready for battle, wrathful, seething,
they set up a council to bring about conflict.
Mother Noise,[32] who fashions all,
supplied invincible weapons, giving birth to mushmahhu-serpents,
sharp of teeth and merciless of fang,?
and filling their bodies with poison for blood.
The ferocious ushumgallu-serpents she dressed in dread,
arming them with frightful auras and making them like gods:
‘May those who look upon them meekly collapse,
may their bodies keep charging and never turn back.’
She enlisted bashmu-serpents, mushhusshu-serpents, lahamu-men,
ugallu-demons, lion-men, scorpion-men,
fierce demons, fish-men and kusarikku-bisons:
they carried merciless weapons, no fear had they of war.
Her orders were formidable, no one could oppose them:
she truly created eleven such beings.
Among the gods her children, who made up her assembly,
she elevated Qingu: it was him she made greatest among them.
To lead the army, command the assembly,
carry weapons, engage, call for combat,
the way of war,? the general’s rank –
with this she entrusted him, seating him upon a throne:
‘I have cast a spell on you, making you great in the gods’ assembly,
the command of all the gods I have put into your hands.
You are the greatest, you alone will be my lover.
May your word be greatest among all the Anunnaki.’
She gave him the Tablet of Destinies and fixed it to his chest[33]:
‘May your pronouncements be unaltered, your utterance firm.’
After Qingu had been raised up and received dominion,
he fixed the fates of the gods her sons:
‘May the working of your words quench fire
and your amassed poison subdue the strong.’
