BIND the sick man to Heaven, for from Earth he is being torn away! Of the brave man who was so strong, his strength has departed. Of the righteous servant, the force does not return, In his bodily frame he lies dangerously ill. But Ishtar, who in her dwelling, is grieved concerning him, descends from her mountain unvisited of men. To the door of the sick man she comes. The sick man listens! Who is there? Who comes? It is Ishtar, daughter of the Moon God! Like pure silver may his garment be shining white! Like brass may he be radiant! To the Sun, greatest of the gods, may he ascend! And may the Sun, greatest of the gods, receive his soul into his holy hands!
