A Lyric Poem for the Sumerians

Let the reed stylus bite the wet clay,Not for ledger, not for grain,But for the hour between sun and sun,When the moon-boat floats on the Euphrates.

O city of Ur, your bricks are stamped with stars,Your ziggurat hums like a plucked string.In the courtyard, the beer jug sweats,And the lu-gal drinks with the shepherd.Raise the cup of tamarisk!Let the fermented barley sing!

On the steppe, the…