"For E-kiš-nu-ĝal, 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."
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