Kali, the ferociuos cannibal goddess killing like the boody hishtar, huge colonie of humans enslaved
Henna of seven maids,
Scent of coriander and murex.
-
The gates of Anat's house are closed,
She meets youths at the foot of the mountain.
And look! Anat fights in the valley,
Battles between the two towns.
She fights the people of the se[a]-shore.
Strikes the populace of the su[nr]ise.
Under her, like balls, are hea[ds.]
Above her, like locusts, hands,
Like locusts, heaps of warrior-hands.
She fixes heads to her back,
Fastens hands to her belt.
Knee-deep she glea[n]s in warrior-blood,
Neck-deep in the gor[e] of soldiers.
With a club she drives away captives,
With her bow-string, the foe.
-
And look! Anat goes to her house,
The goddess takes herself to her palace,
Unsated with her fighting in the valley,
With battling between the two towns.
She arranges chairs for the soldiery,
Arranges tables for hosts (armies).
Footstools for heroes.
Hard she fights and looks about,
Battling Anat surveys.
Her innards swell with laughter,
Her heart fills with joy,
Anat's innards with victory.
Knee-deep she gleans in warrior-blood,
Neck-deep in the gore of soldiers.
Until sated with fighting in the house,
With battling between the tables.
-
Warrior-blood is wiped [from] the house,
Oil of peace is poured in a bowl.
Adoles[ce]nt Anat washes her hands,
The In-Law of the Peoples, her fingers.
[She] washes her hands in warrior-blood,
Her [fi]ngers in the gore of the soldiers.
She [ar]ranges chairs with chairs,
Tables [with] table
;
Footstools she arranges with footstools.
[She] draws water and washes
[With D]ew of Heaven, Oil of Earth,
Showers of the Cloud[r]ider,
Dew which the Heavens pour on her,
[Show]ers the Stars pour on her.
(Writings from the Ancient World Vol. 9: "Ugaritic Narrative Poetry", Trans. Mark S. Smith, pp. 107-109, SBL, Scholars Press, 1997)
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