Sumerian Proverbs, Ranked
Originally here.
Inscrutable, playful
The dragon doesn't [fragment lost]
Come on, clown! Just for once, say: "...My hips are heavier than 50 mana weight."
Feels like there's a point here but I can't find it
The vixen quenched her thirst but still her motherly teats were dry. Each fox is even more...than its mother.
Straightforward
Get on with your assigned work!
He will not provide the food supply
Let his bread be foul food. No man should eat it.
You should not eradicate their place in the universe. You should not move the oxen from their places!
You are forever pushing like a millstone torn out of its joint.
A clown made fun of the city. They made fun of him and he wept.
Let great men stir up the conflict for lesser men to fight out.
Do not be hostile to the weakling; do not cry for the strong one.
Don't cause the oven in a man's house to smoke. The smoke will ruin the bread.
The ditches of the garden should not flow with water, or there will be vermin.
Is my ox to provide milk for you?
Talking endlessly is what humankind has most on its mind.
May the king live in his favorite city.
Your role in life is unknown.
Your ox with its large horns will always return to you.
Fragmented but still straightforward
...good...eat...
...he will cause a fight...
...that smells, really smells.
Inscrutable, ominous
The palace's water is coming out
...his hand...
...Someone...the mounds.
Why...?
...cut it...you will be ill...
How can I...?...make it strong for you...make it strong...
To spit without covering it up with dust, to kiss with the tongue at midday without providing shade...are abominations to the god.
Where...you....Where ...... you ....... The son of the just man lies hungry.
...Died.
Inscrutable, "goes hard"
Prayer has given birth to his life.
Thus speaks a widow, a man's junior wife: "What can widows become? They cannot be principal wives!"
The ox has broken its sinews and is lying in its yoke.
Merely inscrutable
...Meadow grass is the milk of a lettuce
...clay is a mongoose in its city
My fate is her voice: my mother can change it.
...bird...town square
He wipes his bread on the pig.
Sounds like that one Stephen Crane poem
...my...Let there be...my heart.
...who sleeps...of the fire
...my god's heart...
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